Of Two Minds
by ScopesMonkey
Summary: A Greensleeves AU story. Jadzia Idaris receives the Dax symbiont and her relationship with Julian Bashir is put to the test.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note_: At the request of a couple of people, I am writing some stories set in the Greensleeves universe. If you haven't read Greensleeves, I suggest you do so, or else this won't make much sense.

If anyone knows the names of Jadzia's family members (her mother, father, and sister) please send me a PM and let me know, because I just made them up for my own purposes.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine or anything associated with Trek. I am not making any money off of this. Any original characters, settings, or events do belong to me and may not be used without my permission.

And now:

* * *

1

"I've decided not to do it."

Julian Bashir swung his legs from the arm of the couch and pushed himself quickly to his feet.

"What?" he asked, putting aside the padd he'd been studying, his physiology reading immediately forgotten.

Jadzia Idaris looked back at him with obvious trepidation on her face. She was anxious about his reaction, but he could see the faint hints of resolve underneath.

"Why?" he asked.

"Jules, if I went through with this, I'd risk losing you. I can't face that. I don't want a life where I'm not interested in you anymore. I don't want to change!"

Bashir took her hands.

"Zia, people change all of the time. We can't avoid that. You and I have both changed since we met. That's no reason to throw away a lifelong dream!"

"I've made up my mind, Jules," she said.

"No, we need to talk about this," he insisted. "Zia, listen to me." He pulled her down onto the couch beside him, noting her disinclination to sit down. She met his eyes squarely, and he saw the reluctance in them. She didn't want to talk about this; she had been hoping to avoid a confrontation. Hoping he wouldn't question her decision not to let herself be considered for joining should a suitable symbiont be found for her. He reached out, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Zia, I don't want to lose you, either. But being joined is something you've wanted to do ever since you were a little girl. I don't want you to throw away something you've worked so hard for because you're feelings for me might change."

"Jules, if I got a symbiont, I _would_ change," she stressed.

"Yes, I understand that," he said, and he meant it. After meeting her two years ago, he had done a lot of research on Trill, particularly joined Trill, and talked to several of them to get an idea of what the joining was like, and what it meant to live with a symbiont. "But there's no guarantee that your feelings for me will change, and there's no guarantee that the person you'd become wouldn't interest me, either."

"I know that," she said. "But I don't want to take that chance."

"But you're taking a chance on this," he replied. "What if being joined worked out really well for our relationship? You've told me yourself that being a host enhances the host's life as well as the symbiont's. What about the people around you?" He paused, pursing his lips. "And how can you benefit from regretting making a decision like this?"

"How do you know I'd regret it?" she asked.

"Because it's something you've wanted to do all of your life," he replied. "I don't want to be the person responsible for denying you something you've always wanted."

"It's _my_ choice," she said.

"But you're making it because of me. Zia, look, I can tell this doesn't make you happy. I know this is something you've always wanted to do. You can't make a decision for me that would make you unhappy, no matter what the consequences are later. This is _your_ life, and _your _dream."

"And my decision."

Bashir sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought for a moment, then looked back up.

"Zia, when I found out about my genetic engineering, I thought I was going to be kicked out of med school. It was the worst week of my life, while my professors fought Starfleet Command to keep me in. I was going to lose the one thing I'd wanted most from my life because of a choice that was made by someone else sixteen years before that. I don't want you to go through that. And I don't want to lose you."

"Jules, that's the point," Idaris said. "You could lose me if I'm joined. That's what I want to avoid."

He put one hand on her cheek, tracing cheekbone with his thumb.

"No, if you decide not to be a candidate, then I am losing you. Part of you. I'm losing the Jadzia who worked so hard to fulfill her dream. I'm losing the Jadzia with a goal. What's worse is that you're losing her, too. If someone asked you to chose between me and your career, what would you pick? If you were given a great assignment before I'm finished med school, would you stay here with me? Or would you follow the dreams you had before you ever met me?"

"Being in a relationship requires compromise, Jules," Idaris pointed out.

"Of course," he agreed. "And if you were joined, we'd have to learn whole new ways to compromise, Zia. We'd have to adjust to a change in our lives. But didn't we do that when we met, and when we first moved in together?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"From what you've told me, I don't think the symbiosis committee would give you a symbiont that's utterly incompatible with you. And, although you wouldn't be Jadzia Idaris anymore, you'd still be Jadzia. You told me that the host has to be strong enough not to let the symbiont overwhelm her. So you'd still have Jadzia's interests and affections. You'd have more, too, of course. Zia, I love you. And I think you're pretty fond of me."

She smiled, dropping her head for a moment, then looking up again.

"You could say that," she replied.

Bashir smiled, too, kissing her quickly on the cheek.

"Zia, being a doctor is the most important thing in the galaxy to me. But you are the most important person. I know I can be a doctor and have you in my life. I think you could be joined and have me in your life. You don't need to trade it for me, or me for it."

"What if it doesn't work out?" she asked.

"Why can't we cross that bridge if we come to it? Why deny yourself something like this for something that might not happen?"

Idaris sighed and leaned back against the couch. Bashir watched her look around their apartment. Although they couldn't see the bay from where they were, they had a good view of the San Francisco skyline and they got a lot of sun. Idaris had loved it from the moment she'd seen it; Bashir was content to live pretty much anywhere, as long as there was a roof over his head and he was warm and dry.

"I suppose so," she said at length.

"Please think about it. Some more," he added.

She looked back at him and gave him a gentle smile. She put her fingertips to his cheek and nodded.

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you," Bashir said and gave her a quick kiss. Idaris kissed him back, then sighed and leaned him. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and settled back against the couch cushions, gazing out of the livingroom windows without really seeing the city around them.

* * *

The outdoor cafe was busy, but Bashir spotted Ensign Shannon Tanner immediately. She was seated in the far corner, near the patio's wrought iron fence, with a large flower pot on either side of her chair. She was bent over a padd, playing absently with the straw of her milkshake while she studied. There was a small pile of padds beside her left elbow, too. She wasn't dressed in her Starfleet uniform; they had found this cafe the first year they had known each other, and both of them liked it because so few cadets went there. Or officers, for that matter. It was small and out of the way, but always busy.

There was a spare chair opposite her own, and she had one foot hooked around one of the legs, to prevent anyone from snatching it up. Bashir wound his way through the other tables toward her, pulled on the chair and smiled as she tightened her grip on it, looking up quickly. Then she smiled as well, letting it go.

"Hi, Jules," she said, shutting off her padd and putting it aside.

"Hi, Shan, how are you?"

"Busy, as always," she replied with a smile. Although she had graduated the basic program and was now an ensign, Tanner had been assigned to one of academy's astrometric analysis labs, and they had made it a condition of her position that she take a two-year advanced program. She had accepted happily, and would be graduating in four short weeks, after which she was being assigned to the _Soto_ for her first deep space mission. It was something she had been looking forward to for years.

He was slightly envious of her limited time left in school. He himself had one more year of medical school before he graduated. Idaris, who was now a junior lieutenant, had been able to secure an assignment here on Earth, at a Starfleet lab in Vancouver, so that she could stay with him. Once Bashir graduated, however, they would both be putting in for deep space assignments. He hoped that they could get assignments on the same ship or starbase. He had no desire to live a life where he saw her only at rare intervals.

Tanner pushed her milkshake glass in front of her.

"Has she decided yet?" she asked.

Bashir paused as a server came to take his order, then answered:

"No, but it's only been a few days. This isn't something I want her to rush into. Either way."

"Want me to talk to her for you?"

Bashir shook his head.

"No, I don't want her to feel pressured. This really has to be her choice, Shan."

"And what will you do if she choses not to?"

"Live with it, I suppose," he replied with a frown.

Tanner sat back in her chair, shaking her head. She had recently cut her hair and wore it short and messy. Bashir had preferred it long, but he had a preference for women with long hair. It was one of the many things he loved about Idaris.

"You don't sound very happy about that," she said.

"I'm not," he admitted. "But it really isn't my life, nor my choice. I just don't want her to lose her dream because of some insecurity."

Tanner nodded as Bashir's own milkshake arrived. She wrinkled her nose when she saw it was strawberry flavoured, then gave him a look to suggest that, while he was entitled to make his own decisions, she questioned his mental stability.

"I want to give her enough time to think about it, though," Bashir said. "And I need to concentrate on my exams for the next two weeks anyway."

Tanner snorted.

"Yeah, right, Mister Genetically Enhanced. I'm sure you have to study so hard."

"I said concentrate, not study. And it's not like you aren't breezing through, either."

Tanner shook her head. Bashir knew she wasn't vain about her intelligence, and didn't like calling attention to it, but the simple fact was that she was, like him, a genius. She had been born into it, coming by it naturally from her parents, while he had had his given to him. Tanner had never held his genetically enhanced intelligence against him, though. He had been terrified she would. It still amazed him sometimes how normally most people treated him. It amazed him even more to meet people who hadn't heard about the scandal and didn't automatically associate his name with it.

"If she is joined, will she be smarter? Not that Jadzia isn't brilliant as it is, understand."

"No, I know what you mean, and, yes, she will. She'll know more anyway, because she'll have the experiences of all the previous hosts."

Tanner shook her head once.

"That would be so strange," she commented.

"Apparently, it's very hard for humans to understand it," Bashir said.

"Something about our independent streak? I'm just not sure I'd want all those other voices in my head. Experiencing other people's thoughts and memories? No, thanks."

"Lucky for you that you're not a Trill, then," Bashir said.

"The spots are interesting," Tanner commented and Bashir chuckled. "Well, I hope she makes a choice that's really good for her."

"Me, too."

"I should hope so," Tanner teased him. She picked up a PADD and checked the time on it.

"What time do you have to be in London?" Bashir asked.

"The concert is at eight, so Meg said to arrive by seven. Time zones hurt my brain. I have another hour."

"Good," Bashir said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his milkshake. "Tell me, Ensign, how's that research of yours going?"

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of activity for Bashir and his fellow med students, not to mention every cadet at the Academy. He hardly saw Idaris, but she had always been good about his med school responsibilities, especially since he needed to put in far less time studying than his peers. But his friends called upon him to help them study, and, given the gift he had, he couldn't turn them down.

Bashir knew Idaris was still thinking about being joined, about their conversation regarding that same topic. He also knew her well enough to know that she needed the time and space to think about it, without him pressing her for an answer. Idaris was very thorough in her decision making processes, and very possessive about the fact that they were her decisions. The fact that he had convinced her to consider changing her mind spoke volumes to him about how uncertain she had been in choosing not to be joined.

He finished his last exam of the year one sunny Thursday afternoon and left the exam room with his head swimming mildly. The corridors of Starfleet Academy were abuzz with students hurrying to and fro, meeting in groups to study, or rushing off to exams of their own. Bashir sank gratefully onto a bench just outside the classroom and stretched his legs out. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. He had a whole three months of clinical work ahead of him now, but he was looking forward to it greatly. He enjoyed the time with the patients. The PADDs and lectures just weren't the same; there was no helping anyone, no contact with people. He had been lucky enough to secure two weeks off, however; Idaris wanted to go to Trill to visit her family and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he stayed behind.

Many of his friends sympathized with him for having parents who were in jail and therefore having no real family. It struck Bashir as odd, because, other than the first month or so after finding out the truth, he had never felt alone in the world. He hadn't known Idaris when the secret had come to light, but he had known Tanner for three years by that time, and her parents had more or less adopted him as a second son. He'd been included in all the holidays and family events, and been scolded if he hadn't gone.

Then he had met Idaris and her family had also taken him into their fold. He had been worried they wouldn't approve of him; after all, he wasn't a Trill and he had no idea what it meant to be a joining candidate. But Idaris' mother had loved him from the start and her father enjoyed having another man around, no matter what race Bashir was. Keila Idaris had three daughters and a wife and, although he was still outnumbered, it was somewhat less so. Idaris' sisters seemed to like him, too, but he saw less of them than her he did her parents. They were always off in school or on some trip somewhere. Like Idaris, they had never been bound for lives just on Trill, and certainly not dull lives.

"Don't tell me that drained your brain," a voice said next to him suddenly and Bashir opened his eyes to see the smiling face of Fahad el Naser, a med student in the same year as him, and one of his friends. Bashir gave el Naser a grin and the other man sat down beside him, shaking his head.

"I'm just glad it's all over for a few months," Bashir replied.

"So you can warp off to Trill and then take that cushy position in New Amsterdam?"

Bashir snorted.

"Cushy? I'll only get to be home four days out of every sixteen. Not like you, beaming back to Mummy and Daddy's."

El Naser punched him lightly on the shoulder. Fairly lightly.

"Mummy and Daddy's my ass, Julian. I'm going to Iran, not to the U.A.E."

"Close enough."

El Naser's grin widened.

"What, you think I'm going to beam home every night? No, thanks. I get enough harassment while I'm here. It's all 'Fahad, why aren't you married yet? I know a nice girl you'd like.'" I don't need to get that in person, too."

Bashir grinned mischievously.

"If it's women you're after, I know a few I could introduce you to."

El Naser raised an expressive eyebrow.

"Cadet Bashir's match making service. I'll take my chances on my own, Julian, if it's all the same to you. Come on, let's go get some lunch."

"I can't. I have to go home and meet Zia. Promised."

"Ah, the lovely lady Jadzia. All right, but you'd better come visit me in Iran."

"If you come to New Amsterdam."

"Wouldn't turn down a trip to the moon for all the latinum in the galaxy."

"What would you need latinum for?"

"Sold my soul, now I need to buy it back," El Naser joked. "Have a good time on Trill."

"Always do," Bashir replied. Both men shook hands and Bashir rose to go. "Keep in touch."

"Only if you do," his friend replied. Bashir smirked and nodded; they were usually moderately successful at keeping their word to stay in contact. And Bashir had never actually been to Iran, so the prospect of visiting there was appealing.

"See you," Bashir said and el Naser waved before Bashir turned and head down the corridor. He made his way outside, into the brilliant sunshine and warm early summer air. Pausing, he took a deep breath and appreciated the moment. The air smelled sweet from the blooming trees and flowers in the gardens around him, and the pathways were alive with the buzz of conversation. A pair of full fledged doctors walked past, discussing something, and Bashir anticipated the time when that would be him. He could imagine having his own sickbay, his own nurses, his own patients. Maybe another doctor to work with. He could imagine really contributing, making a difference in the lives of people stationed in deep space, so far from the places where they had been born. He was eager to leave Earth as it was, to leave his parents behind. His past he knew he would always carry with him – it was either a burden or a gift, perhaps both – but he could leave the sour relationship he had with his parents.

He caught a transport back to his apartment, deciding to skip the walk because he knew Idaris would be waiting for him. She had taken today off of work as well, to begin packing and do all the last minute things that always distracted her.

She was in fact waiting for him. It looked as though she'd done all the packing she could do and she was just sitting in a chair, waiting, when he returned home. She rose when she heard him come in the door and Bashir toed off his boots, giving her a puzzled look.

"Zia? Is something wrong?"

"I got a message this morning from Trill. Curzon Dax is dying."

"Curzon Dax? Your field trainer?"

Idaris nodded. He crossed the livingroom quickly to her and gave her a quick hug.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Idaris hugged him back.

"It's all right. I didn't like him much when I was doing my field training. It's not that, Jules. The symbiosis committee suggested I request the symbiont, so I did. I got a reply saying I've been selected just a couple hours ago."

Bashir felt momentarily overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. There was instant anxiety over finally being presented with the fact that Idaris was going to be joined, nervousness about losing her, happiness that something she'd waited for all of her life was finally happening, surprise that it had happened so quickly. She was watching him, twisting her fingers together gently, and Bashir knew she would remember this moment for the rest of her life. So he embraced the positive feelings and pulled her into a tight hug, weaving one hand into her long hair.

"That's great, Zia," he said and meant it. She hugged him back and he could feel her smile. He had wondered, over the past couple of weeks, if push had come to shove, what she would choose. Now he knew. It was gratifying to know his instinct had been right about her answer.

"Do we need to leave earlier?" he asked, pulling away from her gently and taking her upper arms. Idaris was still smiling and Bashir was relieved; when she looked back on this day, she'd remember she had his support, not his questions.

"I told them we were on our way to Trill tomorrow anyway. Since it's only three days away, they said that was fine."

"What if Curzon dies before we get there?"

"They can keep the symbiont stable in the pools," Idaris replied.

"Good," Bashir said.

"We have good transport anyway," Idaris replied. "I doubt we'd get anything better on such short notice."

Bashir nodded at that. They were booked onto a Federation transport shuttle for the next morning, which would take them all the way to Trill. Idaris had managed to get them a good suite on the ship, too, since they had booked so early. On the way back, they were coming home on the _Kubai_, a small Starfleet ship that was scheduled to pass through the Trill system on its way back to Mars to pick up new crew and some new parts. From Mars, they could easily catch one of the daily shuttles heading to Earth.

The return trip was going to be far different than he'd anticipated.

"Are you nervous?" Idaris asked, searching his face.

"A bit," Bashir admitted, nodding. "But only a bit."

She smiled her brilliant smile and kissed him. Bashir kissed back, wondering how this would be different in a week's time.

"I suppose you packed for me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Idaris blushed mildly.

"Mostly," she admitted. He grinned, shaking his head. She was so organized. He went into the bedroom and she followed. He checked his open suitcase, tossed in a couple more things, then began peeling off his cadet's uniform. Idaris leaned against the dresser, watching him with a small, amused grin.

"I hope you'll be graduating head of your class again this year," she said.

"Of course," he replied, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled of his shirt. He snagged a black, short sleeved shirt from the closet and pulled it over his head, then changed his pants, throwing his uniform in the laundry pile, and sat down on the bed.

"I feel sorry for the other students in your year," she said, sinking down beside him, running a hand through his hair.

"There's always second place to strive for," he replied, giving her a quick kiss.

"Mmm. I hope your friend Fahad gets it."

Bashir grinned.

"Me too, but some woman named Elizabeth is giving everyone a run for their latinum. I wouldn't be surprised if it was her next year."

"As long as she doesn't supplant you."

"She's not genetically enhanced."

"As far as you know," Idaris pointed out.

"Maybe it's a huge conspiracy," Bashir agreed. "To populate Starfleet with genetically enhanced doctors. First the medical community, then the whole galaxy."

"And I suppose you're spearheading the entire operation?"

"Of course, my dear. Who else?"

Idaris chuckled, shaking her head. Bashir took her hand and tugged her to her feet.

"Come on, we're going out for lunch. We have to celebrate."

* * *

That evening and the following morning passed in a flurry of activity. There was last minute packing, calling Idaris' family to let them know about the joining, calling Tanner to let her know the same and to finalize arrangements to be at her graduation, and getting to the transporter pad on time the next morning. They arrived with a few minutes to spare and a short line of passengers in front of them. They were the last two on the pad to be transported to the ship, and they had no sooner arrived and had been shown to their suite when the captain announced over the com that they were leaving for Trill. Bashir felt the ship go into impulse, a capability granted by his enhancements, as they put their luggage on the generously sized bed. The cabin was almost as large as their apartment, with thin, elongated windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling in the bedroom. Currently, they were shuttered. Bashir opened them and Earth's moon as they sailed past it. He caught a glimpse of New Amsterdam on the edge of a new lunar dawn, then it was past and they were headed toward the Jovian asteroid belt.

The three-day trip to Trill flew by much faster than Bashir had anticipated or liked. He spent many of his hours poring over the information available in the Federation database on the past Dax hosts. Curzon Dax was the most well known now, of course, as the foremost Federation diplomat who negotiated the merger between the Federation and the Bajoran-Cardassian Alliance. But Bashir had also heard what Idaris had to say about Curzon and was uneasy about accepting the popular image of the Trill diplomat. He knew that Curzon was a hard, demanding man. He wondered what that would give to Idaris.

He wondered what all of them will give to Idaris. The first host, Lela, had been a politician. Another, Tobin, had been an engineer, which complemented Idaris' scientific interests well. Audrid had been head of the symbiosis commission. Emony Dax had been a gymnast, and Bashir was surprised to learn she had traveled to Earth to compete in the Olympics, back in a time when it was believed if a host died so far from Trill it would automatically result in the death of the symbiont. The host prior to Curzon had been a pilot named Torias who had died in a shuttle accident. Bashir hoped that the symbiont had suffered no permanent trauma that could be passed onto Idaris.

When they arrived on Trill three days after departing from Earth, Bashir's head was swimming with names, dates, personalities, life stories and random facts. They beamed down directly to the symbiosis center, not even allowed time to beam to Idaris' parents' house and deposit their bags. Idaris' family met them there, along with several purple clad symbiosis doctors.

They were at least allowed a few minutes to greet Idaris' family. Her sisters congratulated her enthusiastically, and her mother, Zarin, pulled Idaris into a tight hug. Her father, Keila, took Bashir aside.

"Julian, are you ready for this?" he asked.

"Are you?" he replied.

Keila gave him a small, wry smile.

"I'm a Trill, Julian. I'm used to this."

"I'll just have to get used to it," Bashir replied.

Keila clapped him lightly on the shoulder and nodded toward the group of women. They were being approached by the doctors.

"I think you two are on," he said. Bashir nodded and rejoined Idaris, her mother and her sisters. Her father pulled Idaris into a tight hug, holding her tightly for a full minute before releasing her. He gave the doctors a nod and stepped back. The head surgeon gestured toward the door to the prep room. Idaris took Bashir's hand and followed the surgeons. They had arranged for Bashir to be there in the operating room. He was a med student, so this was of professional interest to him, and Idaris would be conscious during the procedure and did not want to be without him.

They stepped into the small prep room and Bashir glanced back to get a final glimpse of the Idaris family before the door hissed shut behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Curzon Dax was already lying on an operating table when Jadzia Idaris entered the room. He looked so different from her last memory of him; back then, he had been towering and imposing, commanding her life with a harsh, unyielding manner. He had had a way of charming everyone around him or cowing them into doing what he wanted. Once, he had been a ladies' man, dashing and charismatic.

Now, he was withered and frail, his once dark hair a faded, wispy white. His eyes were rapidly losing the fire Idaris had come to fear during her field training. The skin on his face looked fragile, like old paper which would crumble into dust at the lightest of touches. He was barely a shadow of the Curzon who had terrified her. It was an unnerving sight to say the least and only a little gratifying. She wondered if he knew she'd requested the Dax symbiont, or if he even remembered her. She had no idea how good his memory was right now, or if he had bothered to recall a young initiate who he had flushed from the program. Perhaps she had been so far beneath his notice in the first place that he saw her not as his former student, but just as another Trill host coming to be joined.

She glanced back at Bashir and gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek, which he returned. Idaris knew he was nervous this– so was she. But she knew he was willing to take the chance, and, out of all the considerate things anyone had ever done for her, this one topped the list by far. She hoped with all of her heart that Dax would not change her so much she would no longer love him the way she did now. She couldn't imagine not loving someone who was willing to give so much for her without a single complaint.

She had been dressed in a thin, pale green cotton gown in the prep room and was starting to get cold. Her feet were bare, as were the lower half of her legs, her forearms, and, of course, her stomach. She rubbed her arms gently and the surgeon gestured to her to get onto the operating table. Idaris climbed up carefully, conscious of the fact that her gown didn't cover much, and lay down. The nurse covered her legs with a thin blanket that didn't really do much in the way of heat. Bashir came to stand beside her and she raised one hand, searching for his. He enfolded her hand in his owns, pressing it gently, and smiled down at her.

"Love you," he mouthed.

She mouthed the words in return, aware of the silence in the operating room and not wanting to break it. The surgeon, whose face was now almost completely covered so that only his brown eyes showed, injected an anesthetic into her neck. There was a moment where Idaris felt the influx of the drug into her system, then she could feel nothing in the lower half of her body. She tightened her grip on Bashir's hand; she could still feel that. He squeezed back and Idaris raised her head slightly to see the surgeon making an incision into Curzon's torso. Carefully, the doctor eased the symbiont from the dying man's body. Idaris watched as the last of the light began draining from his eyes.

"Curzon," she whispered. He turned his eyes to her and gave her a weak smile. Still, Idaris had no idea if he recognized her or not.

The surgeon turned his back on the dying host and passed the symbiont to the waiting nurse. He made an incision into her stomach and Idaris saw Bashir's jaw tighten. He didn't like watching others perform surgery while he did nothing, especially when the procedure was being done to her. She gave his hand another squeeze, then winced slightly at the pressure of the symbiont being inserted. Idaris took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to will away the nervousness and unease. Then her features relaxed and she took a moment for a deep breath to allow a sense of peace and well being to return.

* * *

Jadzia Dax opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Julian Bashir's deep, bright eyes looking back down at her, questioningly. She was startled by his appearance for a moment: he looked so young. Then she realized she felt so young. She could feel the vitality of a body in its mid-twenties, all the energy, the passion, the life. It was shocking, as it always was, to be returned to such a healthy state after accompanying a past host until the moment of his or her death.

She gave Bashir a smile and his face relaxed into a smile as well. Then Dax raised her head, glancing across the room at Curzon, who was now lying still, dead, on the other operating table. She glanced down at herself and was frankly surprised.

"I haven't been a woman in a long time," she commented.

The sudden sound of laughter surprised her; the noise was deep, rich, full of emotion. It was Bashir, she realized. She had never been aware of how beautiful his laugh was. She felt a tiny flicker of hope; if she could feel a deeper appreciation for him now, maybe things would work out.

"How do you feel?" the surgeon asked from behind his purple mask.

"Fine. Great," Dax replied, and meant it. The body she was in now was strong, young, and fit. Starfleet, of course. She would have known even without Jadzia's memories. She propped herself on her forearms carefully, watching the surgeon's eyes crease with a frown, but Bashir, the future doctor, simply gave her a helping hand. He trusted her. She knew that.

"I want to see my family," she said. Dax tried to swing her legs from the bed and failed miserably.

"You're still anesthetized," Bashir reminded her with a grin.

She gave a short laugh and ducked her head for a quick moment before the surgeon injected her with another dose of medication.

"Give it a few minutes," he advised. "We'll move Curzon, then your family can come in. I wouldn't recommend walking around until the feeling has fully returned. You should know that, by now."

The surgeon and the nurse transferred Curzon's body to a stretcher and guided it from the room. A sudden silence engulfed Dax and Bashir, who looked at each other like two strangers meeting for the first time. But only for a moment.

"How do you feel?" Bashir asked.

"I feel fine, Jules, I really do."

"It's going to take some getting used to, calling you 'Dax'."

She squeezed his hand.

"I'm still Jadzia," she reminded him. " 'Zia' will be fine."

"You look different," he commented.

"How so?"

"Stronger, more confident."

"I _feel_ more confident," she replied, then gave him a bright smile. "It's a great feeling. Like I can do anything, take on any challenge. Now I know what's it like to feel like you do."

He chuckled and sat down on the bed beside her. The feeling was beginning to return to Dax's legs and she winced slightly as the pins and needles sensation spread through the lower half of her body. She shifted her legs gently and wiggled her toes.

"What's it like, being over three hundred years old?"

"So nice to be in a young body again," she replied, to which Bashir smiled.

"I'm pretty fond of that body, too," he said. Dax made a face, sticking out her tongue and he laughed, shaking his head. She was relieved they were getting along, at least. She had been afraid the symbiont would find Bashir too young, too inexperienced for her new tastes. She was still afraid that would happen; she'd barely been joined and all the of the memories of her past lives hadn't surfaced yet. When they did, her experience would be greater. Bashir's would be the same as it was right now, plus a few days. She was worried that a gulf might open between them, one that was unbridgeable.

It left a cold feeling in her stomach, right where the symbiont was.

The doors hissed open then and her family came in. Dax's worries vanished immediately when she saw their smiling, curious faces and she grinned back at them, beckoning them to come in. She was delighted to see them again; it had been so long since she and Bashir had last been to Trill, or her family to Earth, and being rushed into the operating room wasn't the most leisurely of greetings. And now they looked so young and vibrant to her. She had Bashir help her from the bed, now that the feeling had painfully returned to her lower body, and embraced her parents warmly. She understood so much more about them, now, having been a parent several times before. It was so odd to have those experiences suddenly, when just an hour ago, she still had no idea if she ever wanted children.

Her sisters crowded around her, pestering her with questions and hugs until their father intervened and told them to calm down. Dax could only grin; the enthusiasm the three of them had always shared was still there, and still contagious.

"I assume there's a joining counselor waiting to talk to me?" she asked.

"You'd be right," her father replied. Dax nodded, although she had no desire to talk to a counselor. This was her seventh joining and she knew what to expect. And she wanted to leave the institute as soon as possible; Jadzia had many unhappy, stressful memories of this place. But she knew that it was her responsibility as a newly joined host to go.

They left the operating room and met with a smiling nurse who offered to show them to the counselor's office. Dax accepted to avoid a disagreement and draw this out any longer. They followed the young woman – who was really probably about Jadzia's age – through a sunlit corridor and down a set of wide stairs that led to a bright lobby. There were people coming and going in the lobby, some of them young initiates. Dax found herself amazed by their appearance; had she really been one of them only a decade ago? They seemed so unconcerned by the pressures of being initiates, which was not at all how she felt back then. A young man on the stairs behind them cried past them:

"Ezri! Hey, Ezri!"

Dax spotted a young, dark haired girl turn and look up toward them, past them, to the boy who had called her. She grinned and waved.

"Jarlan!"

"Wait up!" the young man cried and slipped past them, giving them an apologetic but confident grin for any jostling, and hurried down the stairs. The girl Ezri waited for him, then they vanished from the building into the fresh air outside.

The group made their way down into the lobby. Dax recognized the psychology wing; she had spent too much time here as an initiate, being screened to determine if she was mentally capable of accepting a symbiont. The offices were toward the back of the wing. They all had wide windows and overlooked gardens, but Dax had never felt comfortable in those offices. The view of the gardens had seemed mocking, as if reminding her that she was trapped in a psychology session, cut off from the outside world until she'd satisfied some doctor's requirements.

Now, however, she knew what to do, how to act, how to reassure them. And she knew when she did so that she would not be lying. Dax carried all these memories for her, letting her know things would be all right.

"I can beam home after I'm done here," she said. "Why don't you all go on ahead?"

"Are you sure you don't mind, darling?" her mother asked.

"Not at all. I know the way to the transporter station," she replied with a smile.

"All right," her mother agreed and her father nodded. Dax gave Bashir a kiss on the cheek.

"See you later," she said softly and he nodded, returning the kiss. She felt strange kissing him, as if she didn't quite have his permission. She knew he was the same Julian, but she was not the same Jadzia. Would he like this new her? Would he love her? Mild anxiety churned in her stomach; she didn't know if she could imagine a life without this medical student who had become so important to her over the past two years. But could a young human man satisfy her emotional needs now? Could she do the same for him?

"You bet," he replied and Dax heard a familiar warmth in his voice. She was heartened to hear it and gave him another quick, impulsive kiss. Then she followed the nurse, who was waiting patiently for her. She glanced back once over her shoulder to see Bashir watching her leave and just his gaze made her feel better, more confident about what she was about to face.

* * *

It took two transporter trips to get to the Idaris home almost on the other side of Trill. On that side of the planet, it was already dark. They lived in a small town which was quiet at this hour, a peaceful quietness that Bashir appreciated. The stars were out, the constellations so alien from those the medical student was used to seeing on Earth. The house was a two story modern building with large windows and an airy interior. Bashir turned down dinner, truthfully claiming tiredness from the trip and the whirlwind surgery, and headed into the bedroom he and Dax normally shared when they visited. The bed had been made up for them, and the curtains had been drawn back from the window so that moon- and starlight gave the room a soft blue glow.

Bashir put Dax's suitcase by the wall and put his on the bed. He flipped it open and pulled out the t-shirt and cotton pants in which he slept and changed from his day to day clothing. He cleaned up and crawled into the soft, comfortable bed. Although his mind was spinning with the events of that day, his body overruled it and he was asleep, in the alien moonlight, within minutes.

* * *

When Dax arrived at her parents' house, there was still one light on in the otherwise dark dwelling. She guessed correctly that her father was awake and waiting for her. She had inherited her night-owl tendencies from him. Her mother preferred a full night's sleep, while her father didn't require very much sleep at all and liked to spend a few quiet hours reading after everyone else had retired. She had never been allowed to join him: it was his time to himself, but he'd never stopped her from staying up and reading in her bedroom.

Which she could see was dark as well; Bashir was probably asleep. He had an amazing talent for being able to sleep anywhere, anytime, if needed. Dax suspected it was something they taught in medical school. She'd never known a doctor who couldn't do that. Although Bashir was still technically a medical student, Dax had been thinking of him as a doctor for about a year now. In one more year, he'd be officially recognized as such, and she knew he'd be a brilliant physician.

She slipped into the house and made her way by memory to the small library her parents had built up over the years. The door had been left open and she poked her head inside. Her father looked up and smiled, beckoning her inside. Dax stepped in and sat down in one of the two large, leather armchairs.

"How are you doing, Zia?" Keila asked.

"All right," she replied. "Glad to be out of that counseling session. I don't think I ever want to go back there again."

He laughed, taking one of her hands and squeezing it.

"How's Jules?" she asked.

"He went to bed as soon as we got home," Keila replied. "He's either exhausted or didn't want to be prodded with questions."

Dax frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair.

"You're worried," her father observed.

"To say the least," she replied with a sigh. "Dad, I don't know what's going to happen and it scares me."

"You were never one to back down from a challenge," her father told her.

"Jules isn't a challenge, he's a person."

"Of course he is," her father assured her. "But making any relationship work is a challenge, Zia. The two of you have managed to do so for the last two years. Do you really think you'll change enough to make that impossible now?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I have no idea how this is going to affect me. I can remember all the other hosts and I have all their experiences, but it's like wading into a sea of pages torn from old books. I can't make sense of any of it yet."

"It takes time."

"I don't want to lose him."

"So don't. You're still Jadzia, regardless of what last name you take. The other hosts, none of them can tell you how you feel about Julian. None of them have the right to, and none of them know him. He's your partner, your friend. And this is your life. Not theirs."

"I know," Dax replied, nodding. "It's all so confusing right now."

"I understand," her father said and, even though he wasn't joined, Dax felt that he really did understand. "And humans do have a hard time with it, as most other aliens do when someone becomes joined, or a host switches bodies. You'll have to be aware of that. But remember Julian does know you, Jadzia, and he's willing to work this out."

"I am, too," she replied.

"I know." He paused, and touched her chin with two fingers, a small gesture of support. "Don't worry about it too much, darling, or else you might worry it to pieces. Take it a day at a time for now, and you'll sort it out."

"I hope you're right," Dax replied, rising from her chair. She leaned down to give her father a kiss on the cheek, which he returned. "I'm going to bed now."

"Sleep well."

She nodded and left the soft glow of the library's light, heading back into the darkness of the rest of the house. She went upstairs, trailing the fingertips of her left hand along the wooden banister, then along the wall until she reached her old bedroom.

The curtains were open on the window and Bashir was indeed asleep, on his back, in the moonlight. Dax found her suitcase, which he had left next to the door for her, and changed from her street clothes into her pajamas. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him for a moment, hand hovering just above his chest. She felt like waking him, but didn't know if she should. Maybe she didn't have the right to anymore. Maybe he wanted to sleep.

With a sigh, she drew her hand away and refrained from giving him a quick kiss in case it woke him up. Instead, she settled under the covers next to him and closed her eyes on the first day of her new life.

* * *

When Bashir awoke in the morning, Dax was gone, although he could see where she had slept. And he had the faint memory of being half-awoken when she'd kissed his temple before leaving the bedroom. He sat up, blinking in the sunlight, and glanced around. Her suitcase was open on a chair, and his was on the floor beside it, on its side but unopened. He felt a glimmer of relief that the Jadzia he knew must still be present; leaving his suitcase at the ready was something she would do.

He got up and changed into some civilian clothing and brushed his hair. He was just sitting back down on the bed to put his socks on when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Bashir said and the door hissed open to reveal Talan, Dax's youngest sister. She leaned against the frame, crossing her arms, grinning at him. She was only seventeen and going to university in about a month. In appearance, she looked like her sisters and her mother: fair skinned with dark hair and startlingly blue eyes.

"'Morning, Jules," she said casually. Very few people called him that anymore, not since he'd found out about the genetic engineering and realized Jules Bashir had effectively died as a small boy. But he couldn't shake the habit from some people, including Dax and her sisters.

"Good morning, Tal. Where's Jadzia?"

"Just went downstairs about fifteen minutes ago. Breakfast is on. Are you coming?"

"I'll be right there."

"Had a chance to talk to the new Zia yet?" she enquired.

"Not yet," Bashir replied.

Talan gave him a one-shouldered shrug and another bright grin.

"Don't sweat it, human," she said. "Most of you can't wrap your heads around Trill you knew that were just joined. But you're pretty bright."

With that, she pushed herself away from the door frame and headed off. Bashir watched her leave; she was wearing a skirt and no shoes, so he could see the distinctive Trill markings, remnants of camouflage, running down her legs and feet. He looked at his own feet, without any spots, then closed his eyes. He had never felt more alien on Trill than he did right now. Most humans couldn't get used to a newly joined Trill they'd known before he or she was joined. He'd heard that before. He'd just never really believed it.

He told himself Talan hadn't meant to cause him any doubts. After all, she was still young and had no plans of being joined herself. And she was a Trill. If she ever faced a friend or loved one being joined, she'd naturally be able to deal with it, the way unjoined Trill had been dealing with it for millennia.

He was just a human. An alien.

Setting his jaw against his own doubts, Bashir pulled on his socks and went downstairs to join the Idaris family for their first breakfast with Jadzia Dax.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is stupid."

"What is?"

Bashir stopped and Dax turned to face him. For the past hour, they had been walking in one of the government managed natural parks just outside of the town in which she had grown up. Her family had given them time to themselves and they had decided to get away from everyone, to spend some time alone.

"I've spent the last hour trying to think of things to say to you!" Bashir complained. "Since when do I need to do that? I never feel pressured to make small talk with you."

"It is a bit weird," Dax agreed.

"A bit?" Bashir asked. "Zia, I haven't felt this much at a loss since we first met. No, that's not true. I didn't even feel like this when we met."

Dax nodded, but said:

"It is somewhat like getting to know each other again, Jules," she replied.

"I know," he said.

"I think you know, but I don't think you understand. It takes some getting used to."

"And what about for you?" he asked. "Is this taking some getting used to for you?"

"Of course it is."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He began walking again and Dax fell into step beside him.

"I wish I knew what was going to happen," he said halfway under his breath.

"If we knew what was going to happen, what would be the point in experiencing it?" she asked.

"Hah!" Bashir said, pointing at her. "That's definitely different. Jadzia Idaris didn't like being ignorant about outcomes."

"I still don't," she replied. "But I can accept it far more easily."

"I wish I could," Bashir sighed, tilting his head back and looking at the clear azure sky. He tripped on a root in his path and Dax caught him, righting him. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said with a smile. "I'm not the doctor, remember?"

"But Audrid was," Bashir pointed out.

"That's true," Dax mused. "It could probably come in handy."

"I bet having been a pilot could, too."

"And an engineer."

"Maybe a diplomat, if you have to make peace with any Cardassians."

Dax laughed.

"It could help in first contact situations," she pointed out. "And Curzon didn't make peace with Cardassia."

"I know, I know," Bashir said, waving a hand. "Just hammered out the agreement that merged the Federation and the Alliance. Nothing major."

Dax laughed again.

"Well I'm glad you still have your sense of humour, cynical as it may be."

"I'm not the one with three hundred years more experience," Bashir pointed out. "How's your sense of humour?"

"Better, I think," Dax replied. "I can handle you, after all."

"Haha," Bashir replied but shot her a genuine smile. She grinned back. They past another two Trill who were walking in the opposite direction. They nodded to Dax but stared at Bashir, who stared back.

"Strange, isn't it?" Dax asked.

"What?" Bashir asked in return.

"Being the alien."

"Do you feel that way on Earth?"

"At the Academy? No, but Emony felt it. The gymnast. Personally, I like humans, but I'm far more used to them than some of my hosts were."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Bashir said. "I'm sure your human friends will, too."

"Hmm," Dax said pensively. "Well, I hope so. I wonder about those who knew Curzon. I don't know what they'll think of a young female Dax."

Bashir raised his eyebrows, looking at her.

"I doubt they'll be anything but impressed. And I know your friends, Zia, will like you no matter what."

Dax nodded.

"For the most part, I think you're right," she agreed.

Bashir thought the ones who wouldn't like her now weren't really worth having anyway. He didn't say so, because it was Dax's right to choose her friends, not his.

They were nearing the end of the path, where the transporter pads were located, and where the shuttle service stopped. They had come by shuttle, because Dax enjoyed seeing the scenery of her home planet and Bashir hadn't seen all of Trill. He appreciated the chance to see what he could; the planet was large and he was biased towards its natural beauty, perhaps because it was so foreign to him. He'd been to more places on Earth than he could count, and, after awhile, it had all begun to look familiar. Trill was still a novelty.

"I'd love to go to the Hoobishan Baths," Dax said as they stepped out from the shade of the trees into the dappled sunlight. Bashir squinted until his eyes adjusted to the new level of light, then nodded, flashing her a grin.

"You're offering me the chance to be massaged by beautiful women and you think I might turn it down?" he joked.

She grinned back.

"I don't expect you will, at that," she replied.

"Then by all means," Bashir said, gesturing at the transporter pad. They registered their destination while waiting for a trio of hikers to materialize, then climbed up onto the pad. Dax gave the command to energize, and Bashir felt himself dissolving as the standard Federation transporters converted him from matter into energy. A moment later, he was rematerializing at the Hoobishan Baths.

They weren't the only ones with the idea of a day at the renowned spa. The transporters were busy with people coming and going, but Bashir had been here before, and knew they wouldn't have a problem getting in. There was more than enough staff to accommodate the busy schedule.

Dax grinned at him and stepped down from the transporter pad. It had been one of Idaris' favorite places before being joined and Bashir suspected it would remain so. They joined the line for admittance, gave their names and chose their treatments, then were given towels and bathrobes. They parted ways to change, then met up again for a short wait until their masseuses became available.

Dax was able to get in before he was, so Bashir was left waiting alone, surrounded by Trill who were in small groups or sitting by themselves, reading. He looked around, wondering who here was a joined Trill, who was not, and who intended to be one day. He wondered if there were any new symbionts in first hosts, a circumstance that was fairly rare, from what Dax had explained to him.

Bashir felt a stab of relief to see a few other aliens wander in and take comfortable seats. A Bolian woman nodded to him and he nodded back. A Bajoran woman was chatting with a Vulcan man, which surprised him. Not the conversation, but just the presence of the Vulcan in a place like this. He seemed at ease, however, as much as a Vulcan ever was, and was involved in the conversation with his companion.

A stunningly beautiful Trill approached him, smiling radiantly. She had red-gold hair that fell to her waist and was pinned loosely back from her face. The shade of her hair seemed to sharpen the colour of her Trill spots. Her eyes blazed a vivid, chocolate brown from underneath red-gold lashes. She was the masseuse Bashir had had the first time he'd come here, and the one he always went back to.

"Hello, Julian," she said.

"Hello, Shelar," Bashir replied and rose, following her. She led him into a private room lit by candles and filled with soft, soothing Trill music, the style of which he did not recognize.

"Good to see you again. I was wondering if Starfleet would ever give you and Jadzia any time off to come back."

Bashir smiled as he sat down in her massage chair. She rubbed some oils on her hands, a fragrance that was similar to lavender. The first time he'd been here, she'd used something on him that was fine for Trill but apparently not for humans; he'd developed a rash all over his back and shoulders.

"We had planned this for awhile," he said. "But we would have ended up having to come anyway."

"Why?" Shelar asked. "Nothing serious, I hope."

"No," Bashir assured her. "Jadzia was joined."

He could feel Shelar's surprised in the momentary pause of her hands.

"Really? Good for her? To whom?"

"Dax."

There was a quick intake of breath behind him.

"Dax? Very impressive," she said. "Must be interesting."

"It was just yesterday," Bashir replied.

"I remember hearing that Curzon Dax had died," Shelar said. "He'll be missed."

_Not by Zia_, Bashir thought, but kept that to himself. The people of Trill had good reason to hold Curzon Dax in high esteem, as did everyone in the Federation. Whatever he had been like as a man didn't change what he'd accomplished. Federation history, Starfleet history in particular, was riddled with characters like that, men or women who had accomplished amazing things, but may not have been the most tolerable people to know personally.

"Well, I hope things work out between you," Shelar said. "I've heard it's difficult for non-Trill to adjust to a newly joined Trill."

Bashir felt his stomach tighten as it had this morning when Talan had made her offhanded comment about the same thing. Why did people keep saying that to him? He took a deep, slow breath, pretending nothing had bothered him, and nodded his head once.

"I'm sure it will," he said with a confidence he was no longer really feeling. If it was such a problem for non-Trill to adjust, then why did he think he was any different? Jadzia was a completely different person now. He understood there were still elements of her personality in there, but she would be forming a new personality based on the experiences and memories of Dax's past hosts. Both she and Bashir were essentially being dropped into a relationship with a two year history without knowing each other anymore.

He felt sick.

He kept up his side of the conservation to keep Shelar from realizing how much her comment had bothered him, but inside, he was mulling it over, dissecting everything he and Dax had said to each other since she'd opened her eyes on that operating table the day before.

It felt like an eternity, but less than a day ago, she'd still be Jadzia Idaris, the woman with whom he had fallen in love. Now he wasn't sure who she was, if she would love him, or he could love her.

When Shelar was finished his massage, Bashir headed into a steam room. There was no sign of Dax, but there were plenty of other Trill lounging around on the fragrant wood benches. The Bajoran and the Vulcan were there, too, although now they weren't talking. The Bajoran was lying on her back, eyes closed, and the Vulcan was sitting up straight, eyes also closed, probably meditating. Bashir was always struck by how easy it was for Vulcans to meditate anywhere, no matter what their surroundings. He wished he had that mental discipline now, but the conversations between the other patrons distracted him. It seemed so easy for them. Joining was part of their way of life. He wondered how many here were joined and how it had changed them.

Half an hour in the steam was enough, and Dax still hadn't shown up. Bashir left and changed back into his clothes, heading down to one of the baths' bars for a drink. He was surprised to find Dax inside, sitting at a table with a Trill man about her age, chatting and laughing. She glanced up when he approached their table and grinned brightly at him.

"Jules, there you!" she said as he gained a chair, sitting beside her. She gestured at her companion, a tall, black haired, green eyed man with an equally bright smile. "This is Metian Nen." she said. "Met, this is Julian Bashir." She turned back to Bashir. "Met and I were in the initiate program together. He was just joined a few months ago. My second host knew his first host."

"Catching up on old times?" Bashir asked, deliberately keeping his tone light, shaking Nen's hand.

"Not so old as that," Nen replied. "On the time since we graduated the program."

"Which was such a relief!" Dax exclaimed, then gestured to a waiter who made his way through the tables toward them. She asked him sweetly for another drink, then flashed him a smile when he took her order. Bashir was a bit surprised; before, she had never been much of a flirt.

"That place was a bit demanding," Nen agreed.

"A bit?" Dax asked, shaking her head. "I think all consuming would be a better description!"

Nen grinned again and stood.

"I need to get going," he said. "I'm having a tongo night at my place tomorrow. Kelandrar and Chec are coming over too, and a couple other friends. You two want to join us?"

Dax glanced at Bashir and he shrugged one shoulder, nodding. He could tell she wanted to go, and, although he'd never played tongo, he was a fast learner.

"I'd love to," she replied. "Curzon was an avid tongo player. I may have picked up a hint or two."

Nen flashed them another dashing grin.

"Great," he said, pulling out a small pad from the pack he was carrying. He jotted something down and handed it to Dax. "My address. Around eight."

"See you then," Dax replied and Bashir gave the other man a nod. Nen waved at them and left the bar. "Hungry?" Dax asked. "I am."

"I am, too," Bashir replied and they took a couple of minutes to decide on meals, then placed their orders.

"Have a good massage?" she asked as drinks arrived, one for each of them.

Bashir gave her a smile that wasn't entirely heartfelt.

"As always. I was surprised you didn't come to the steam room."

Dax waved a hand, sipping her drink.

"I ran into Met, so I took the chance to catch up with him. And I don't like steams anyway."

"You always used to," Bashir pointed out.

She looked surprised for a moment, then put her drink down thoughtfully.

"I suppose I did," she admitted, then gave her head a shake. "I mean, Jadzia always did. But Dax doesn't. I– how odd."

"Why doesn't Dax?" Bashir enquired.

Dax thought about this for a moment.

"It was Audrid, I think," she replied. "She had trouble breathing in them and didn't like to be hot."

"So what does that mean for you?" Bashir asked.

"Something I have to sort out, certainly," she said. "My previous hosts, the ones after Audrid never bothered with it, but I _love_ steam rooms. I hope I can overcome her dislike for them. It's something I always enjoyed doing, especially with you."

Bashir was touched so deeply by her last comment that it surprised him. He hadn't realized how much he had been wanting some reassurance from her in regards to their relationship.

"It's something I like doing with you, too," he replied.

Their food came then and Dax ate with more enthusiasm than Bashir had ever seen her do. He smiled into a mouthful of food and she gave him a curious look.

"What?" she asked, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Has your sense of taste improved with being joined, too?" he asked.

She chuckled, swallowing, then taking a sip of her drink.

"I suppose so. Curzon was a big fan of fine food. And drink, too, I might add."

"And women, from what I hear."

Dax grinned at him.

"And women." She shook her head. "What a man."

"Do you understand him better now?"

"I'm beginning to," she replied, nodding. "That doesn't mean I'm going to be his biggest fan."

"I think there would be a long line of women ahead of you," Bashir said dryly.

Dax snorted sarcastically.

"You've got that right. I'd prefer not to follow in those particular footsteps."

"So you aren't going to start chasing after every pretty woman who catches your eye?" Bashir asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Ha!" Dax retorted. "It would serve you right!"

"I don't chase," Bashir pointed out "I just look. Why waste my time? I didn't have to chase the woman I really wanted."

Dax looked down, but Bashir saw the corners of her mouth tug upward. It was amazing to him that she could still retain some shyness with so much experience behind her now. But perhaps she was still adjusting to the extra confidence that must come with the memories of Dax's past hosts. He hoped he'd still be able to make her blush.

They finished their meals and took the transporter back to the park they had been hiking in that morning, then caught a transport back to Dax's parents' house. On the ride home, Bashir was uncharacteristically quiet, watching the scenery whiz past. Dax did the same and he didn't have the heart to interrupt her, nor would he know what to say. He found this whole situation unbelievably confusing; nothing Dax had ever told him had prepared him for this. He felt like he was walking on thin ice, never sure if his next step would lead him to safety or send him crashing down to drown.

He wondered if the comments Shelar and Talan had made would hold true for him. Would he be unable to cope with the change from Jadzia Idaris to Jadzia Dax? The prospect that he could not cast a black pall of his thoughts that he found very difficult to shake.

* * *

The remainder of that evening and most of the next was spent with Dax's parents and sisters. Close to seven in the evening, Bashir and Dax wandered down to the town's nearest transporter station and beamed five hundred kilometers to the city in the neighbouring province where Nen lived. They found his apartment easily; it was only a few hundred meters from the transporter station, and they arrived with a group of other Trill about their age, two of whom Dax recognized. They were Kelandrar Manis and Chec Labbean, fellow initiates of Jadzia's. Dax introduced them to Bashir and they were ushered inside by Nen, who introduced the other two: a blond woman named Elina Trec and a man with pale brown hair and eyes to match named Geon Medel.

They took seats at the kitchen table in the center of which was a wheel supporting a bowl. A deck of cards was set in front of Nen's place and he began shuffling them as he explained the rules to Bashir. It was a Ferengi game, it turned out, and the rules were fairly simple, at least they were to the human. Dax passed him a handful of latinum she kept at her parents' for gaming with her friends on Trill. They were each dealt a hand of cards, then went around the table and placed their bids. Once the game was in full swing, the conversation and catching up began. Dax's friends pressed her for news of her joining, then battered Bashir with questions about being in medical school. He learned that Manis and Labbean, the other former initiates, were not joined yet, and that Trec's older brother had been joined two years ago.

"It's good that you're working things out," Trec commented, upping a bid Medel had just made. "My brother was dating a Bajoran when he was joined and they split up right afterwards. But then, Bajoran women aren't the most patient women in the galaxy."

Bashir could only nod since it was his turn to bid. He saw Trec's ante and raised it himself.

"It's hard for any alien. Usually only Trill can handle it," Manis pointed out, considering her cards.

"Now, now, don't frighten him," Dax chided them gently as Bashir's already battered heart sank even further. He glanced around the table and saw the telltale spots on each of their faces and felt more out of place than he ever had, even after learning about his genetic enhancements. He began to wonder if the difficulty non-Trill had lay in the fact that Trill kept reminding them that they had trouble. He was sick of hearing it now, but was afraid, in the back of his mind, that they might be right.

The worst part, for him, was that he couldn't set out to prove them wrong. It wasn't like finding out about the enhancements, when he was able to show to Starfleet Command that he was nothing like Kahn Singh. This depended on Dax, too, and he couldn't make up her mind for her. And she was the one who had changed. She was the one with three hundred years of experience now and could easily start to see him as too young and immature for her.

She was the one who seemed to be slipping away from him day by day as the memories began to add to her experience and her personality. Already he had noticed she was far more flirtatious than she ever had been, trading jokes and laughter with her friends around the table with barely a hint of the shy Jadzia she had been only a few days ago.

* * *

Jadzia Dax lay in bed in the middle of the night, gazing at the ceiling which was illuminated a pale blue from the moonlight coming through the window. The window was open, and the drapes pulled aside, so that the cool night breeze wafted into the room. With it came the faint, constant sound of nocturnal insects. A few nocturnal birds called out occasionally, but mostly what Dax heard was Bashir's deep, slow breathing beside her.

In the five days since she had been joined, she had found that she slept much better, which was an immense blessing. Bashir had always been a deep sleeper, but she hadn't been. She had eventually accepted the fact that she would wake up at any disturbance, and she was now left to wonder how she'd ever dealt with that.

She was glad now Bashir was a deep sleeper; she had no desire to wake him as she lay there, in the depths of the night, thinking. It had been a difficult five days. Seeing her family was a joy, of course, it always was. Dax felt a stab of disappointment that the trip to and from Trill took so much time. They only had eight days to actually spend on Dax's home planet, and she wished she could see more of her family as it was.

In way, though, she was grateful they only had three days left here. She herself didn't have fond memories of the time she'd spent in the initiate program, and those memories were heightened with the recent joining. It was also difficult to sort out her feelings about Trill from those of her previous hosts. They all had favorite places and Dax found herself feeling wistful for places she'd never even been. So much of their experience was tied into memories of Trill and she felt that, being in the place in which they had all lived, she wasn't getting the chance to distinguish herself from her past hosts. Earth was currently her home, and Dax was looking forward to getting back, so she could define her life against the background of so many other lives. On Trill, she felt Jadzia Dax may be subsumed by the memories of Dax's previous lives. On Earth, she knew who she was, what her life was, what was hers.

And she was frankly getting tired of hearing about how Trill and non-Trill relationships didn't work out once the Trill partner had been joined. She knew Bashir was sick of it, too. Every time someone mentioned to him – which seemed to be more often than not – she could see him biting his tongue against a retort. Dax found she was much better at reading expressions than she had been before being joined, but Bashir had never really been a closed book to her. She'd known him for too long and knew him too well to miss things like that. It almost felt like everyone was undermining their chances, deliberately or not.

With a sigh, she rolled over onto her side, her back to the window, and closed her eyes. The _Kubai_ would be here in three days and they could go home and sort things out there. She hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

In this part of the Federation core, it was easy to get a subspace message through to Earth. There was so much com traffic to the other core planets that finding receivers aimed at Bashir's homeworld was no difficulty at all. He waited less than three minutes before Shannon Tanner's face was on the screen.

She blinked when she saw him, looking surprised, then her face lit up in a smile.

"Jules!" she exclaimed. "How are you?"

He made a sound that could only be described at the essence of frustration and waved one hand vaguely. Tanner's smile vanished and her eyebrows shot up questioningly.

"What's wrong? Is it Jadzia?"

"No," Bashir said, sitting back in his seat. The house was quiet except for this conversation; the Idaris family had gone out to do some errands and he had claimed he wanted a nap. He had some time to himself now, to talk to someone who wouldn't understand at all his problems at all, but at least not understand them from a human perspective.

"At least, not entirely her," he continued, shaking his head. "It's everyone else on this bloody planet, Shan! They won't shut up about non-Trill having problems with newly joined Trill!"

Tanner frowned.

"Isn't that true, though?" she asked.

"Yes!" Bashir said, throwing his hands in the air. "And it's probably because of the fact that they keep insisting on it!"

"Calm down, Jules," Tanner said. "Tell me what's going on."

He explained to her about how many times he'd gotten the warning about his relationship.

"I'm so tired of hearing it," he said. "I think Zia is, too, but I can't tell for sure. There's so much I can't tell about her anymore."

"How has she changed?" Tanner enquired.

"She's so much more confident– not that I have a problem with that. More outgoing, more flirtatious–" At this, Tanner arched a very expressive eyebrow, as if to tell Bashir that he, of all people, shouldn't be complaining about that. "I don't know where I stand with her anymore. And it seems that everyone else is convinced that this will break us up."

Tanner was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I have no idea what to think," he said frankly. "It's only been six days since she's been joined. I have no idea how her personality is going to turn out in the end."

Tanner waved a hand as if brushing his words aside.

"Julian, you have no idea how her personality would turn out over the span of her life anyway."

"Yes, but this is changing so suddenly."

Tanner nodded, and Bashir knew she understood as much as she could. As much as any human could. He felt comforted by that contact, but it didn't change the fact that he felt like he was losing Dax.

"Look, Jules," Tanner said and Bashir shook himself back to the present. "When you first met Zia, it's not like you guys just went from strangers to where you were a week ago. Why do you expect this now? You still know her in a way, but you're getting to know a new her. Don't try to make this work the way it was before she was joined."

Bashir frowned, giving his head a shake.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Tanner shrugged.

"Think of the things the two of you did when you started dating. Take her out for a nice dinner, or to dance, or something. Since she's joined with Curzon Dax's symbiont, she might be interested in Bajoran or Cardassian food. You're pretty close to Bajor, so you might be able to find a Bajoran restaurant. Or maybe there's a place there you know she likes."

A light came to Bashir's eyes for a moment.

"Good idea, Shan," he said.

She snorted.

"Don't depend on my ideas," she said. "It's up to you, Jules. And you only have a few days left on Trill. Make them count. Think of what the two of you did."

"I will. Thanks, Shan."

"No problem. Go figure something out. I'll see you in about a week."

He grinned at her.

"Absolutely," he agreed. She grinned back and ended the communication. The standard Federation communication symbol flashed onto the screen before it went blank. Bashir sat there for a moment, then nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

* * *

"I hope you brought something sophisticated to wear."

Dax stopped in the doorway of her old bedroom, the one she and Bashir were sharing while they were here. He had his suitcase open on the bed and was carefully taking out a folded white shirt. The shirt he had been wearing that morning was folded on the bed beside the case. He glanced up at her with a grin, his eyes sparkling.

"Maybe that dark red dress, the one that looks so good on you."

Dax gave a short, baffled laugh.

"I did bring that," she said. "Why?"

"I made reservations for us at the Crest in Siako."

"What?" Dax demanded, her blue eyes going wide. "How did you manage that?"

"I have my ways," he replied easily, arching one eyebrow, and refusing to say more. Dax entered the room and sat down on the bed as he buttoned up the smart, double breasted white shirt she'd bought him a few months ago. It looked fantastic on him, contrasting his slightly darker skin and fitting the shape of his body perfectly. Of course, she'd had it tailored to fit him, but she had never noticed before exactly how good he looked in it.

"Well?" he asked, nodding at her suitcase.

"When are we leaving?" she asked.

"In about half an hour."

"I'm going to do something with my hair," she replied.

She went into the bathroom, fetched a brush from her small carrying case and set to work. It had been a long time since she'd had hair like this, at least a long time for Dax. Fortunately, Jadzia had a lifetime of dealing with her long brunette locks, so Dax's many recent decades as a man posed no problem to the young woman. She swept most of her hair up behind her head, winding it over itself, and let a few strands fall along the side of her face. These she curled into ringlets, then examined herself critically in the mirror before grinning. She looked great.

And, she realized, she was excited. The Crest, in Siako city, was one of her favorite restaurants, but it was also the favorite restaurant of a large portion of the Trill population, and a major draw for visiting aliens. She had no idea how Bashir had managed to get them in, wondering if it had something to do with knowing the current host of the Dax symbiont, but she was pleased and flattered that he'd gone to the trouble.

She fished her red dress out of the suitcase and pressed it quickly. The room was deserted now, Bashir having gone to do something else. Dax slipped the silk over her head and managed to do the back up herself, then gave herself another critical overview. She was delighted with what she saw; this dress, as Bashir had said, always looked good on her. It was made of dark red silk, with a plunging neckline and two small straps crossing each shoulder. The straps were hooked together at the front and back of the dress, but separated slightly across her shoulders. The waist was fitted and the skirt only slightly flared, coming to just above her knees. There was no decoration on the dress, nor did there need to be; the cut of the neckline and the lack of sleeves showed off her Trill spots. It was one of the reasons she bought the dress. The dark red brought out the blue in her eyes and the pink tinge in her cheeks.

She grinned at herself, found her matching pair of shoes and slipped them on. Bashir came back then, dressed in his white shirt and a pair of dark blue dress pants. He smiled at the sight of her and she smiled back.

"Ready?" he asked, extending one arm to her.

"Absolutely," she replied, feeling more like herself than she had in the last six days. She slipped a hand through his arm and they made their way from the house, bidding her family good night, and headed down the street to the nearest transporter station.

The Crest was as busy as she excepted, every table taken except a small booth at the back where four people could sit comfortably. It was there that Bashir and Dax were led by a sophisticated, middle aged Trill woman. Wine was ready for them, and Dax was surprised. She reached for her glass once the maitre d' had left and took a sip. It had been her favorite wine before she'd been joined, and she was heartened and somewhat surprised to find it still was, even with her vastly increased repertoire. Curzon had a distinct fondness for good wine, and Dax was happy to find out that her current tastes won out over his.

"Good choice?" Bashir asked, picking up his own glass.

"Definitely," Dax replied. "Still my favorite."

He held up his glass in a silent toast to her and Dax touched the brim of her glass to his. It was an interesting human custom. She had no idea where it came from, but she'd often noticed that humans, like Trill, were very social in their eating habits.

"What made you think to come here?" she asked, putting the glass down gently and glancing around the restaurant. The majority of the patrons were Trill, but she spotted a fair number of aliens as well: humans or Betazoids – Dax had no idea how to tell the difference just by looking – an Andorian and a Bolian eating together, a handful of Cardassians sharing a table engaged in a lively conversation, an older, blond Bajoran woman dining with a distinguished older Cardassian man.

"I'll never tell," Bashir replied and Dax looked back at him. He had that telltale mischievous look on his face that told her, indeed, she'd never know. Just as she'd probably never really know how he managed to get them a table.

Their waiter appeared with their menu and they spent a few quiet minutes deciding what to want before ordering. The waiter returned, took their orders and vanished again, all courtesy and grace. It was one of the reasons Dax loved this place; the waiters may have been Betazoid for their instinct for appearing at a table at exactly the right moment.

"Well, whatever made you decide this, I'm glad you did," she said. "I never would have thought we'd make it in on short notice. I didn't even think to make a reservation before coming."

Bashir only nodded, eyes twinkling, and Dax wondered if he _had_ thought of making a reservation back when they had planned the trip. She wouldn't put it past him. For someone as young and arrogant as he was – and he was, fairly frequently – he had a distinct knack for surprising and delighting her.

He poured her more wine and Dax sipped it contentedly.

"How was your day with your family?" he asked, sipping his own wine.

"Good," Dax replied with a smile. "But, to be honest, I'm looking forward to going home, too."

"Is it that, or are you just looking forward to being finished with tomorrow?"

"Maybe both," Dax admitted, giving her head a shake. "I don't really want to go, but I'm expect to."

The memorial service for Curzon Dax was being held the following day, and, as the new host, she was expected to go. This wasn't common, but given what Curzon had done for the Federation and for Trill, and the fact that he'd been her field supervisor, it would appear to be a slight if she wasn't there. She wasn't certain she was ready to face all the people he knew, and most of them would be there. It was why the service had been delayed for so long; several very important people in the Federation had to rearrange their schedules at the last moment to attend.

A man approaching their table distracted her from her thoughts and Dax glanced up to see an older Cardassian looking back at her. She blinked, then stared as recognition hit her.

"Tain? Enabran Tain?" she asked.

The Cardassian's face relaxed into a grin.

"Ah, good," he said. "I was afraid I'd get the wrong woman. Hello, Dax."

Stunned, Dax slid from the booth and gripped Tain's hands welcomingly. She laughed in shock, shaking her head.

"It's been so long!" she exclaimed.

"Longer than I realized," he replied. "You look magnificent, Dax."

"Luck of the draw," she replied. "Although I think Curzon would appreciate knowing the symbiont went to a young, attractive woman."

At this, Tain laughed a deep, appreciative laugh.

"Indeed he would."

Dax gestured to Bashir, who was watching the exchange with confusion.

"Jules, this is Enabran Tain, one of the Cardassian diplomats who helped the Alliance merge with the Federation."

"I remember the name," Bashir replied, reaching out to shake the Cardassian's hand.

"Enabran, this is Julian Bashir, my partner."

"Lucky man," Tain said to Bashir with a wink.

"Yes, well, I don't think Curzon would have been quite my type," Bashir replied dryly, to which Tain chuckled.

"Come, join us," Dax said.

"Oh, I couldn't," Tain replied. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Nonsense!" Dax replied, missing the quick frown that creased Bashir's features. "I haven't seen you in years. What are you doing on Trill? The service, of course."

"Precisely," Tain said, accepting the offer then and sitting down beside Bashir in the booth, facing Dax. "It took some doing, of course, but no one was going to deny me my privilege of being here. Elim can't make it, unfortunately."

Dax frowned, nodding.

"How is Elim? I haven't seen him since he was oh, my age now, I suppose."

Tain chuckled again.

"Always my greatest weakness, that boy," he sighed. "He's fine, as always, and busy, as always. No rest for the legate, of course. He did want to be here, but alas, some things do take precedence over even this."

"I'm glad you came, though," Dax said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand lightly. "It would have meant a lot to Curzon."

"I presume you're going tomorrow?"

Dax nodded, casting a glance at Bashir, who she knew wasn't anticipating the service, either.

"I am, although, to be honest, I'm not looking forward to it."

"Why not?" the Cardassian enquired.

Dax sighed.

"I'm still adjusting to Jadzia's life and you're the first friend of Curzon's I've met again. I'm not sure how seeing old faces will be this time around. And Jadzia and Curzon didn't have the best of relationships."

Tain laughed.

"Young lady, there were many people with whom Curzon did not have the best of relationships!" He became more serious, nodding. "But I do understand where you're coming from. I'm sure Curzon's old friends and acquaintances will have certain expectations of you that won't be founded."

Dax nodded.

"It happens with a new host, particularly when he or she is reintroduced to a former host's friends who aren't Trill."

Tain nodded and the waiter came over to enquire if the Cardassian wanted any wine. Dax shot Bashir a questioning glance and he nodded. "Thank you," she mouthed at him and smiled at Tain, who ordered a glass of _kanar_.

"I remember the day when you couldn't get _kanar_ on this planet," he commented as the waiter left.

Dax laughed.

"I do, too," she replied. "Although that didn't stop some of my former hosts from having it smuggled here."

The Cardassian arched an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked.

Dax nodded.

"Torias was _terrible_ for it!" she exclaimed. "I think that's where Curzon got his affinity for Cardassian culture."

The diplomat laughed, shaking his head. Dax leaned forward, both hands on the table, smiling mischievously at him.

"Now come on," she said. "I want to know everything that's happened to you since you and Curzon last talked."

* * *

The evening had been a sore disappointment for Bashir, who now sat on the bed in Dax's old bedroom, folding his white shirt carefully. They had gotten in late, and he had forgone turning on the light; there was enough moonlight for him to see easily. Dax was in the shower, so he was by himself.

With a sigh, he pulled his pajama shirt over his head, then put the dress shirt away with care. He sat down on the bed again and looked at the sheets in the moonlight. They were rumpled where he was sitting, and he took a handful between his fist, scrunching them gently. They had been on Trill for six full days now, and, although they had slept in the same bed, that was all they had done. Bashir was willing to give Dax space, of course, but he couldn't help feeling she was pushing him away further.

He hadn't intended to spend the evening with Enabran Tain. Under different circumstances, he was sure he would have liked the man. Tain was outgoing, with a sharp, dry sense of humour, and he had a wealth of stories to share. But the fact that he, Bashir, had intended to spend a romantic evening with Dax spoiled his view of the other man. And Dax had a history with Tain, Bashir did not. While the two of them had caught up on old times, all he could do was listen to stories of places he'd never been and people he'd never meet. It had been frustrating.

He hoped it hadn't shown, of course. He didn't want Dax to be unhappy. His medical training had schooled him to keep his emotions from the surface; any good doctor needed that kind of control. But this wasn't a medical issue, this was his personal life. He wondered if Dax had even noticed, or if she knew that she was slipping from his life.

With a sigh, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and changed his pants. He sat down again and pulled on a pair of thin socks before padding over to the window and looking out. This whole trip had been a disaster; he probably should just have stayed on Earth and waited for her to come back. How was he supposed to give her space, after all, if he was here? He could be getting work done on Earth, too, and spending some time with Tanner before she warped off to the edge of known space.

He hadn't realized his life was going to change as much as it had, and when he thought of how much more it was going to change, with one of his best friends leaving Earth for good, it made him feel sick. He felt like he was losing everyone around him. His parents had been lost to him years ago, of course, and now the two people closest to him were also fading. One physically, the other emotionally. It was hard to be here, watching Dax drift away from him.

But what had he expected? She was a joined Trill. He should have known. He was a human. There had been hope for them, but only a slim hope. Despite the genetic enhancements, he was still no different than any other human, in this respect, at least. Just another alien who didn't belong.

He crawled under the covers as he heard the sonic shower switch off– with his hearing, he was just able to hear the high pitched noise. He heard Dax moving around in the 'fresher and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

* * *

Jadzia Dax had never been more miserable in her life. No, that wasn't true. She _had_ been just as miserable during her two week field training under Curzon Dax.

And he was the cause of her current misery, too.

The memorial service was packed, and it was being aired on Trill's comnet. Curzon's remaining family, his sister, her husband and children, and some cousins, were there, although Dax had not, thankfully, been required to sit with them. Almost everywhere she looked, she saw familiar faces. There were a lot of people she would have recognized before being joined, but no one she'd ever expected to meet or know. There was Enabran Tain, of course, sitting with some fellow Cardassian and Bajoran diplomats. Even after all this time, the Bajoran and the Cardassians had a stronger connection to each other than to any other race in the Federation. Dax recognized First Minister Tenys Evar from Bajor, who was also sitting with Tain. The president of the Federation himself was there, with several high ranking admirals, including a very elderly Doctor Leonard McCoy, who was looking impatient. There were a huge number of Trill crowded into the government building that had been appropriated for the occasion.

Thankfully, no one seemed to recognize Dax. She had come only with Bashir, asking her family to let her have this personal time. The truth was, she didn't want to involve them more than necessary in the life of the man who had washed her out of the program. She knew her father still harboured feelings about that, and her mother had been livid at the time, although Zarin seemed to have forgiven the now deceased man.

Bashir himself didn't look very happy. She didn't blame him. She had been Curzon and she wasn't interested in sitting through all of the speeches about him, listening to what an amazing person he'd been. It seemed his public profile would always outshine his personal life.

The president of Trill, several people from the TSC, the president of the Federation, Tain, and the Bajoran First Minister all made speeches through which Dax suffered, trying to look as if she were politely paying attention, honouring the memory of her former host.

After what seemed like hours – and indeed, was – the formal ceremony came to an end and those who had been invited to the government reception began to filter toward the private lobby. Bashir moved to follow that particular crowd, since Dax and whichever guests she wanted to bring had been invited, but she grabbed his hand, shaking her head when he looked back at her. He gave her a quizzical look, but she ignored it and tugged him through the crowd in the other direction, raking a hand through her long brown hair to cover her face as much as possible. They wove their way through the press of bodies, out of the building into the rain that had been falling since late morning. There were people milling about everywhere, but Dax knew this area well, thanks to Curzon. The government buildings here were scattered along the side of a steep, well forested river bank. It was toward the river that she led Bashir now, ducking off of the walkway onto a footpath beaten into the underbrush. Bashir followed without a word as Dax led them downhill, away from the crowd. Here, there was only the sound of the breeze, the rustle of rain as it fell on the leaves, and the river as it flowed past them. In the shelter of the woods, they weren't getting nearly as wet as they would have been on the top of the bank.

Dax led them off the path once they were just in sight of the water, into the underbrush. She kept moving until she was certain no one would see them, then took cover under a large evergreen tree whose low, sweeping branches had completely protected the ground around it from getting wet. Last season's dead needle-like leaves and some fresh ones carpeted the ground, providing some cushioning as she sat down. Bashir sat down beside her, giving her a puzzled look.

"I'm sorry," Dax sighed.

"For what? Getting us out of there?"

"For everything. This is so– ridiculous. I'm sorry you had to go through this. Maybe I shouldn't have decided to be joined."

"Hey. No," Bashir said. "I know it's hard now, but it will get easier for you."

"I hope you're right," she admitted. "Curzon was so– Curzon. I think it will help to get back to Earth. I just wish– I wish you were a Trill, Jules, because then this would be easier."

One corner of his mouth twitched.

"I know. But I'm not."

Dax nodded.

"I know."

He took her chin gently between a thumb and a forefinger and kissed her gently on the lips. For a moment, Dax felt a flash of surprise, then utter recognition, then shock at how long it seemed since he had kissed her that way. She felt him start to pull away and grabbed his face, holding it to hers as she kissed him back, hard. She could feel him stiffen in surprise, then relax again, and he did not protest when she pulled him down with her onto the leaf-covered ground.


	5. Chapter 5

As she pulled on her uniform jacket, Jadzia Dax felt a wave of relief wash over her.

She was going home.

What's more, she felt like herself for the first time since she'd been joined. Looking in the mirror as she zipped up the jacket, she saw Jadzia gazing back at her. No matter what her other hosts had done, _she_ was Lieutenant Jadzia Dax, a science officer. Torias had been a test pilot in Starfleet, and none of the others had joined Starfleet. She smiled briefly to herself, checked that her pips were straight, then sat down on her old bed to pull on her black boots. Bashir came in just as she was standing up again and she smiled at him. He was dressed in his cadet's uniform, which Dax had always found unflattering. Being a medical student, the drab grey of his uniform was highlighted by a green striped running down each arm and the outside of each leg. The ring of the collar was green, too. The pattern matched Dax's own uniform, but where his was grey, hers was black, and where his was green, hers was blue.

There was still a lot of uncertainty between them, and Dax could not really say what might happen when they returned to Earth. But at least they would be home, without all the pressure around them to figure things out right now. She wished she knew, however; going through this felt like walking through shoulder deep molasses. Time seemed to have slowed down just for them, so that the uncertainty she felt had the opportunity to grow. It was oppressive, feeling this way, even worse than when she'd been waiting to find out if she'd been readmitted to the initiate program.

"Ready to go?" Bashir asked her. Dax recognized he was acting normal on the surface; as a medical student, he was taught to do so. But underneath, he was as uneasy as she was, but as relieved to be heading back to Earth.

"Yes," she replied. She picked up her suitcase as Bashir made sure he had everything before snapping his shut. He gestured to her to go ahead, so she did, making her way down the stairs. Her family accompanied them to the transporter station, only a few blocks away, and they said goodbye there. As always, the goodbyes were emotional for Dax, with promises that she would come visit soon and that they would call and write from Earth. Her father hinted at the possibility that he and Zarin could come to San Francisco to visit, a prospect that pleased Dax.

She was finally able to signal the _Kubai_ and she and Bashir transported up, beaming into a standard Starfleet transporter room. There was a Bolian woman waiting there to greet them, dressed in a red and black uniform with four captain's pips. Her skin was a subdued blue-grey, something Dax had seen only rarely. With her was a human security officer in his somber grey and black uniform, and a transporter engineer behind the controls.

The captain smiled at them as they stepped down from the transporter pad.

"Good morning, Lieutenant, cadet. I'm Captain Me'ha Rinn. Welcome aboard the _Kubai_."

Dax shook the woman's hand.

"Thank you, sir," she replied and Bashir shook Rinn's hand.

"Lieutenant Correaux will show you to your quarters," Rinn said. "We'll be underway in a few minutes, so I hope you'll forgive me for rushing off."

"Of course," Dax said, nodding.

"Captain, if your doctors need any assistance in sickbay while I'm on board, I'd be happy to provide it," Bashir said.

Rinn smiled at him, her white teeth contrasting brightly against her blue skin.

"I'm sure they have a pile of run of the mill work they'd love to pass onto someone else. I'll let them know to be expecting you," she replied, then gestured toward the door. Lieutenant Correaux led the way and Rinn nodded at her engineer as they left the small room. "Lieutenant Dax, I understand one of your former hosts was a pilot?" she asked.

"That's right. Torias," Dax replied.

"You're certainly welcome on the bridge if you'd like to see our navigation system. And our science team may have some data you'd be interested in reading. We haven't been out very long, but this ship is faster than she looks. We've traveled a fair distance."

Dax grinned. The _Kubai _was one of the first _Intrepid_ class ships Starfleet had built, designed for the speed and energy efficiency required for deep space travel. It was the first time either Dax or Bashir had been on one, and Dax, for her part, was looking forward to seeing as much of it as possible.

"I'd appreciate that," she replied.

"Wonderful. I also hope the two of you will join me for dinner at nineteen hundred hours. It's not everyday I have Curzon Dax's successor on board."

Dax glanced at Bashir who grinned and nodded.

"We'll be there," she promised.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls."

With that, she left them with Lieutenant Correaux who, compared to his captain, seemed terse and sullen. He gestured in the direction opposite from that which Rinn had taken, glowering slightly as he did so.

"This way, sirs," he said in a voice that brooked no argument or delay. Dax glanced at Bashir, who shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching, and they fell into step behind the taciturn security officer.

* * *

Bashir left the sickbay the next day, humming vaguely to himself as he did so. He was carrying a padd in one hand, reading it carefully, walking down the corridors toward his guest quarters with the practiced ease of someone who had been on this ship for more than a day and a half. It was a benefit of the genetic enhancements, being able to recall patterns effortlessly. He looked up only to avoid collisions with the crew members he encountered, always turning his attention back to the padd. He had been assigned report work, which hadn't surprised him, but had been permitted by one crew member to conduct her physical while the ship's head doctor, an Andorian woman named Alsaa, had overseen the exam. It had been a rewarding experience, working directly with a patient.

He saved his reading on the padd as he neared the turbolift that would take him to his quarters. In addition to having a few more hours in sickbay to look forward to after his lunch, he was anticipating that evening's concert performance. The ship had a very small orchestra composed of its musically inclined crew members, and they were playing at twenty hundred hours in the mess hall that day. Bashir was looking forward to taking Dax. Although none of her hosts had been musicians, she appreciated music deeply and was constantly searching for forgotten composers. Small orchestras comprised of local musicians were also a favorite of hers.

Now that they were on the _Kubai_, they had a little more time to spend with each other, which Bashir had been both anticipating and somewhat dreading. It was more than a little frustrating to feel that kind of mixed emotions towards a woman he had loved for over two years now. But his unease hadn't been entirely misplaced; they still seemed at a loss as to what to say to each other, at least sometimes. The silence that could so easily descend between them was a constant reminder of what they'd given up and the struggle they were facing.

_At least_, he reminded himself wryly, _you aren't being constantly reminded by other people that Trill-alien relationships don't often last after joining._

Bashir was doing a good enough job of that himself. He didn't need anyone else's help.

"Julian!"

Dax's voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked round to see her coming up behind him, smiling. He smiled back, wondering if it would ever feel normal again to greet her.

"I thought I'd catch you," she said. "I was just in the science lab, helping them analyze some preliminary data."

"How's that going?" Bashir asked.

"It isn't all that stimulating, but it's something to do," she replied. "Makes good use of my scientific training."

Bashir nodded and held up the padd, about to say the same thing about his work in sickbay when the ship lurched, sending them both stumbling into the wall. Dax caught herself with her hands, but Bashir tripped backward into the corner of the wall that divided two corridors. He cursed as the red alert klaxon came on and Dax grabbed his arms, helping him regain his balance. The corridor dimmed in response to the alert and Dax looked around quickly.

"What the hell's going on?" Bashir asked as the ship rocked again. Dax and Bashir gripped each other's arms for balance, Bashir's padd falling to the floor, forgotten.

Dax shook her head and reached for her combadge, but another hit nearly cost her her footing. Bashir managed to hold onto her, his heart rate picking up fast.

"All hands, this is the captain!" Rinn's voice sounded suddenly from all around them. "We're under attack by the Borg! Battle stations!"

Bashir felt his stomach go cold and couldn't think for a moment. He saw his own initial panic in Dax's eyes, but a split second later, their training had taken over. Dax gripped him and they started toward sickbay together. There would be causalities, and both of them would be able to provide invaluable assistance. Even though Jadzia Dax wasn't a doctor, she knew enough from Audrid Dax to be able to help competently.

The ship took another direct hit, sending both of them into a wall. Dax uttered a short, sharp curse in Trill and hauled herself back upright using the wall as Bashir clambered to his feet.

"Let's go," she said through gritted teeth. He nodded, snagging her hand, and they broke into a run. They had barely covered any ground when Rinn's voice interrupted them.

"Lieutenant Dax! Report to the bridge!"

Dax hit her combadge.

"On my way!" she replied. Bashir stopped, turning back to her.

"Go," she insisted.

He nodded, squeezing her hand.

"Be careful."

"You, too."

* * *

Jadzia Dax turned and ran in the other direction, back toward the turbolift, which she prayed was working. She had no idea where a Borg vessel could have come from, or how much damage the _Kubai_ had taken, but she hoped that Starfleet had learned a thing or two from Wolf Three-Five-Nine and built the new _Intrepid_ ships accordingly. 

She staggered forward, managing to catch herself with her hands, as the ship shook again, more violently this time. She was just scrambling up again when she heard the distinctive whine of a transporter beam behind her. It didn't sound Starfleet. Instantly aware that she was unarmed, Dax spun, dropping into a defensive stand. Two Borg had materialized not ten meters away from her, and she was the first thing that caught their attention. They started toward her, walking in their awkward lumber, and Dax launched herself at one, catching in on the shoulder and slamming her hand under its chin. The neck snapped back enough to give a satisfying crunch and Dax was about to jump to her feet when a blow across the shoulders sent her sprawling across the dead drone. She gasped and felt the hand wrap tightly around her upper arm, hauling her to her feet. Dax swung one arm, but the Borg blocked it effortlessly, rattling her bones and probably bruising them, she suspected. She saw it reach for her and tried to twist away from its grasp, but it held fast.

Suddenly, she saw a pair of familiar hands wrap around the Borg's face and twist its head sharply to one side. Dax heard the same crunch of vertebrae snapping and the Borg sagged. Julian Bashir let it drop onto its companion. She stared at him for a moment, seeing the cold rage in his eyes, and learned something new about him. She had never realized before exactly how protective he was of her, how deeply unwilling he was to see her threatened or hurt.

The rage faded almost immediately, but the passion was still there. He handed her a phaser, which she took with a quick puzzled look.

"Weapons locker. I told you to be careful."

As unlikely as it was, she grinned.

"I will."

He nodded at her and turned away again, taking to his heels toward sickbay. Dax turned and ran toward the turbolift, which was mercifully working. It deposited her on the bridge, which was already a scene of chaos, two crew men jostling her aside to get into the turbolift with an injured woman. Rinn snapped her head around and Dax hurried down the two stairs to join the captain. A Borg sphere was dominating the view screen and, although it had taken some damage, it wasn't enough.

"The _Enterprise_ will be here in twenty minutes!" someone said, presumably in answer to a question Rinn had asked earlier. Dax saw another volley of photon torpedoes head toward the sphere and braced herself for an incoming blast.

"Shields back up!" someone else called out. "Only thirty percent!"

"Know anything about shield engineering?" Rinn asked, snapping her brilliant blue-purple eyed gaze at Dax.

"Some," Dax said.

"Help out Miss Soko," the captain ordered and Dax joined the engineer. "Bring us about! Get moving in the direction of the _Enterprise_!" the captain ordered.

"Initiating evasive maneuvers, pattern gamma," the helm office agreed and Dax felt the ship shift ever so slightly as it began to pull away from the Borg vessel.

Another hit knocked Dax off of her feet. She bumped into Soko, the engineer she was supposed to be helping, and the other woman cursed as she hit her head on a console. A flash of light from behind Dax made her throw her arms over her head to shield herself. The bitter, acrid tang of smoke filled her lungs and she coughed, raising her head to look around. Rinn was pulling herself to her feet and the ops officer was scrambling from his chair to help the fallen helm officer.

"Get her to sickbay!" Rinn snapped. "Soko, take ops, Dax, can you pilot?"

"Yes," Dax replied, hurrying to the helm. She sank into the chair and maneuvered the ship aside to narrowly avoid another blast from the Borg sphere. She let Torias' skills take over and set them back on course toward the _Enterprise.

* * *

_

Sickbay was flooding with people most of whom, thankfully, were walking in, bringing in wounded. There had been one death already, an engineer whose console had blew and killed him instantly. The others were alive, in various states ranging from critical to sitting up and watching others being treated. Anyone who could hold a hypospray and stand had been co-opted from their roles as patients and made into honourary nurses. The nurses and Bashir had become doctors, taking care of the less critical cases while the ship's two doctors performed minor miracles on the seriously injured.

A human man in a red uniform and ensign's pips came in, carrying a woman of the same rank in the same colour uniform.

"Put her here," Bashir ordered, pointing to a recently freed bed. The man complied and Bashir handed him a hypospray. "Hold this," he said. He ran a quick scan to determine the woman's race – he couldn't tell the difference between a Betazoid and a human visually, and there was enough cross-race breeding in the Federation that alien blood wouldn't always be apparent. He determined she was a quarter Betazoid and assessed the extent of her injuries before taking the hypospray back and injecting her. The woman groaned and the ensign who had brought her in leaned over so she could see him.

"It's all right, Tany."

"As long as we don't get assimilated," she replied, her voice weak but still firm. The ensign grinned at her.

"I'll make sure we don't," he replied. "I'd better get back to the bridge."

She nodded and he turned to leave, but one of the regular nurses stopped him.

"Maska, what's going on up there?" she demanded.

"We're headed for the _Enterprise_. Two against one isn't good odds for anyone, even a Borg ship."

She nodded and Maska hurried out. Bashir turned back to his patient, who had suffered some burns across her chest and arms when she'd tried to shield herself from the blast at her console. He healed those quickly, then took care of the broken ribs she'd sustained.

"Feeling better?" he asked, helping her sit up.

"Yes, thanks." She got a good look at him for the first time and her eyes widened. "You're just a med student!"

"Don't hold that against me," Bashir replied, flashing her his most charming grin. "Now, come on, we're out of beds, but take a handy seat on the floor."

He helped her sit down against a wall, where a crewmate of hers welcomed her. The doors of the sickbay hissed open as the ship took another hit, sending Bashir and everyone else on their feet staggering in all directions. There was a litany of curses as Bashir managed to catch himself against a biobed. He felt a sharp pain in his ankle and suspected it was sprained, but ignored it for the time being. The ship shook again and Bashir closed his eyes momentarily, starting to worry that their shields would be gone any moment, if they weren't already.

One of the doctors, an Andorian woman, hit her combadge angrily.

"Alsaa to bridge! How much longer until we reach the _Enterprise_?"

"Five minutes, Doctor!" came Rinn's voice over the com. "How many wounded?"

"Too damn many!" the doctor replied as two of the nurses helped get the new arrival onto a bed. He was a human male, bleeding profusely from various wounds, burns marring his skin. Alsaa glared at Bashir. "Julian, we need your help."

Bashir hurried over to join them, taking instructions from the doctors as they anesthetized the man and began performing surgery. The power flickered in the sickbay suddenly and Bashir resisted the urge to look up, keeping his concentration on his patient.

"Not now, dammit!" the other doctor, a human man named Fleming, cursed at the ship in general. The _Kubai_ responded by providing them with another tremor, one that earned cries of alarm from some of the patients sitting along the walls.

"Julian, laser scalpel," Alsaa said and Bashir handed the instrument to her, ducking for balance as they took another, more direct blast, keeping his hands pressed firmly against the wound on the injured man's stomach. The power flickered again, going out for a few solid seconds.

"Fleming to engineering, we need to keep the power on here!"

"Understood, Doctor," a calm, Vulcan voice replied. "We are doing our best."

Fleming muttered something under his breath that Bashir suspected he was the only person to hear. The ship shifted suddenly and Bashir was willing to bet they'd just avoided another blast. For a moment, he wondered where Dax was, if she was all right, but pushed the thought out of his head. If she wasn't in sickbay, she was either alive or dead, and he preferred to think she was not the latter.

The hiss of the doors made Bashir look up again, and his eyes widened when a Borg drone lumbered into the crowded sickbay. Everyone froze in shock for a moment, then Bashir left the bedside, launching himself at the drone, slamming it into a wall. It jerked, reaching up for him automatically, slicing the side of his right thigh open. Someone from behind him yelled: "Doctor, duck!" He didn't even think about the misnomer, but threw himself to the floor as a killing shot caught the Borg straight in the chest. Bashir rolled aside as it fell, then hoisted himself to his feet with a speed unknown to normal humans. He ripped the sleeves of his uniform jacket off, folded one up quickly and used the other to tie the makeshift bandage on.

A voice from the air cut through the sickbay.

"_Enterprise_ to _Kubai_ sickbay. Stand by to beam aboard. How many people do we need to beam directly to sickbay?"

"All of us!" Alsaa replied.

"Acknowledged."

Bashir felt a deep relief sweep through him as he crouched down beside a still-injured woman. The same emotion was evident on her face, supplanting the pain for the moment as she held her broken arm carefully on her lap. He was just about to offer her a reassurance when another Borg drone came through the door. It lunged at him and Bashir caught it, aware on some level it was a female drone, then felt the familiar tingling sensation of a Starfleet transporter beam locking on.

* * *

Dax maneuvered the ship as best she could, keeping one eye on the progress of the sphere as it tracked them and one eye on the progress of the _Enterprise_ as it approached them. She dodged a blast from one of their weapons array, but couldn't miss the second. She was able to brace herself somewhat, but heard a cry from behind her, and Rinn's voice snapping at whoever it was to get to sickbay. Her stomach knotted; she was worried about Bashir, but hardly had time to process that emotion.

Torias had been an excellent pilot and had passed on most of his skill to her, in addition to her own flying skills, which she'd developed before being joined. But, while she was working with eight minds, the Borg were working with billions, all simultaneously. Dax bit her lip and plotted a new course, but they still took another direct hit.

"Shields down to five percent!" Soko reported.

"Dax!" Rinn snapped.

"Switching to evasive pattern omega," Dax agreed, hoping the extra maneuverability of the _Intrepid_ class ship would help them stay in one piece until they reached the _Enterprise_.

A com signal interrupted the chaos on the bridge.

"Alsaa to bridge! How much longer until we reach the _Enterprise_?"

"Five minutes, Doctor!" came Rinn's voice over the com. "How many wounded?"

"Too damn many!" the doctor replied and ended the communication. The ops console began beeping and the ensign keyed in a few commands, then nearly smashed his head on his controls when they sustained another hit.

"There's a message coming in from the _Enterprise_, sir!" he said to Rinn. "We have audio only."

"Put it through!"

"This is Captain Picard of the _Enterprise. _Do you read me, _Kubai_?"

"This is Captain Rinn. We read you, _Enterprise_."

"Lock your weapons on the target coordinates we're sending you. Wait until my mark."

"Understood," Rinn replied.

"We have the coordinates, sir," the tactical officer said from the back of the bridge. "Locked on and ready."

Dax dodged another two shots. The third glanced them and she cursed silently to herself. She wondered if Bashir was all right, but he was in sickbay, where help was readily available. Another blast caught them and she smacked her arm against her console, wincing slightly but pushing the pain aside. She glanced up to see the flagship of the Federation fleet sail into sensor range of the viewscreen. Dax waited for a count of five seconds, then began to bring the _Kubai_ around to match the _Enterprise_'s trajectory. The _Galaxy _class ship came up along side them, looking as if it were on a slight angle to the smaller ship. Dax matched their course and speed effortlessly. She noted their shields go offline momentarily, then snap back on.

"Standby, _Kubai_," Picard's disembodied voice said and Dax half braced herself, expecting another shot from the Borg vessel, but the _Enterprise _took it instead, her shields flashing as the energy was absorbed. "_Mark!_" Picard cried and both ships fired at once. Dax felt her heart pause and her breath catch in her throat as the combined fire power of the two ships cut through the somewhat weakened Borg defenses. There was a moment where the universe seemed suspended around her, then Dax winced against the light and braced herself against the shock wave as the sphere exploded. The _Kubai_ rocked, then the disturbance subsided as the _Enterprise_ enveloped her shields around the battered ship.

Dax remembered to breathe out.

She glanced back to see Rinn surveying the damage. The captain asked if everyone was all right, and assisted her first officer, who was bleeding from a superficial shoulder wound. The engineering consoles were on fire and Dax leapt up, joining Soko to put out the blaze.

"Damage reports coming in," the ops officer reported. "The warp core is off line, although we still have thrusters and impulse. Hull breaches on deck two, section A, deck four, sections A through C, deck ten, section F and deck fourteen, sections I and J. Emergency forcefields are in place. Primary life support is down in the crew quarters on deck five, but secondary life support is on line. We've lost primary environmental controls in engineering, too, and secondary controls are weak."

"Soko, get down to engineering and help them get the enviro back on line. Warp engines can wait for now. Mantaes, Dax, Van Den Halden, get down to deck five and begin evacuating any personnel in that area."

Dax joined the first officer and another science officer, heading for the turbolift, which was still functional. She heard Rinn calling sickbay and wished for news of Bashir, but the doors hissed closed before any reply came through.

* * *

"O'Brien to bridge! There's a Borg signature in the transporter matrix!"

"Get it out of there, Commander!" Riker's voice came back over the com.

"I can't, sir!" O'Brien replied. "It's in physical contact with one of the _Kubai_'s crew members! O'Brien to Crusher, Doctor, you're going to have a Borg guest beaming in with the others!"

"Understood!" Crusher replied, spinning around and snagging the phaser rifle being extended to her by a prepared security officer. Yar had deployed a team to the sickbay in case something like this happened, and the doctor silently thanked the other woman's prescience. She thumbed the rifle power up as high as it would go, then shouldered it, setting her sights as the transporter deposited a large number of Starfleet wounded and medical staff into her sickbay.

The Borg drone was locked in a struggle with a medical student, who seemed to regain his initiative first and force the drone backwards. Crusher fired, but the Borg's personal shields simply absorbed and dissipated the energy. With a silent curse, Crusher swung the weapon around and leapt toward the pair, using the rifle as a bat and smashing it across the back of the drone's head. It staggered and the med student drove a powerful blow into its stomach, then caught it on the chin as it doubled over. The drone hit the floor and the med student pinned it down.

"Get off of it!" Crusher ordered, aiming her rifle again.

"I think its human!" the med student replied.

Crusher got her first good look at the drone; indeed, it appeared to have been a human female.

"It's a Borg," she replied.

"And you have it here alone," the man replied. "Put it in stasis. You've done it before."

"Without much success," Crusher replied.

"You have to try," the man replied with such vehemence that Crusher was taken aback. Then she realized that she did have to try; she had the opportunity to save a life, to reverse a harm done.

"Put it in stasis," she ordered, keeping her weapon aimed at the unconscious drone.

"Sir?" the security officer who had handed her the phaser asked.

"You heard me," Crusher replied. They hesitated a moment, but then helped the med student up and secured the female drone with a speed that impressed the doctor. Crusher noticed the young man from the _Kubai_ had a makeshift bandage around one leg and was limping slightly, favouring that leg, but ignored it. They had far more serious wounded to deal with, and the _Enterprise_ had drawn heavy fire of her own from the sphere when she'd entered weapons range. Wounded from the flagship were coming in now, and she had more important things to deal with than a med student with a superficial wound.

One of the doctors and one of the nurses from the _Kubai_ had already taken one patient into surgery, ignoring the potential threat of a single drone here in favour of their patient. Crusher sent a nurse of hers off with them and began a triage of the other wounded with the _Kubai_'s other doctor, an Andorian woman who said her name was Alsaa. They sorted out those who were well enough to leave and got security to find them somewhere to go. Crusher assigned wounded to her staff, including the med student, who seemed more than competent enough to work on his own.

Bashir had never worked so hard in his life, but barely noticed. There was a pain in his leg, a dull throbbing pain where the cut was, and a sharp pain from the sprain in his ankle, but they barely registered as he moved from patient to patient, smiling and reassuring them with a practiced ease he was surprised he could muster so simply. The _Enterprise_ had a fair number of causalities of her own. There was a large number of people on the ship and the aftermath of the battle saw a lot of people filtering in as soon as they could get there. He'd just finished healing an engineer's broken leg when a distressed looking civilian woman came limping in, carrying a crying child.

"Keiko!" the _Enterprise_'s head doctor, Crusher, exclaimed. The woman sagged against a wall, bleeding from a cut on her temple, and Bashir, closest to her, rushed forward, taking the little girl out of her arms.

"Molly," the woman named Keiko murmured as Crusher caught her before she fell.

"Bashir will take care of Molly," Crusher assured the woman. "She'll be fine. We need to get you looked after."

With the help of a nurse, Crusher carried Keiko off. Bashir bounced the crying Molly gently in his arms, making soothing noises. He walked toward a biobed, which the engineer quickly evacuated, thanking him on her way out. Bashir put Molly down and turned her face up toward him. Molly's crying hiccoughed, then she looked at him, puzzled.

"Hi, Molly, I'm Julian. I'm going to look after you. Did you get hurt?"

The little girl, probably only three at best, began to cry again, but not to sob. Bashir crouched down and did a quick visual examination, then grabbed a tricorder and scanned her. At this, Molly stopped crying again and watched the machine with a frightened curiously.

"I'm checking to see where you might be hurt. Did your arm get hurt?"

She nodded, her lips trembling, and Bashir put the tricorder aside, taking her left arm and prodding it gently. Molly let out a wail and the med student nodded, grabbing the osteo regenerator that a nurse extended toward him.

"This will make you feel better," he promised over the wails. Quickly, he healed the fractured humerus and checked the bones in her forearm to ensure the more fragile bones were fully intact. There was a hairline fracture in her radius, which he sealed as well, then checked her quickly for any more internal injuries. She had escaped less scathed than her mother, without any surface cuts or any other serious injuries. Mostly, she was just afraid.

Bashir picked her up and settled her against one hip, bouncing her gently again. He shushed her reassuringly, and the girl threw her small arms around his neck. Bashir held her tightly, scrambling up onto the biobed and rocking her back and forth until she began to calm down. She raised her head, looking at him with bright brown eyes, sniffling and wiping her nose.

"Want Mommy," she said plaintively.

"I know you do," he said. "Mommy's getting her cut fixed. Do you think you can wait a bit here with me? She won't be long."

Molly regarded him with a look older than her years.

"Who're you?" she demanded.

Bashir grinned.

"Julian Bashir."

"Where's Daddy?"

"I don't know where he is. I bet Mommy will, though. We only have to wait a few minutes."

"Julan," Molly said, as if considering his name for herself, then settled against him, looking around. The resilience of such a small child amazed him. As he looked around the sickbay, he was alarmed: there were injured people everywhere, a few active stasis containers that didn't bode well, a Borg drone in stasis, dozens of people who had been evacuated from the _Kubai_ comforting friends and crew members, security trying to round up those who had been discharged.

The doors hissed open again and Bashir looked up to see an engineer in his black and gold uniform rush in, looking around in a panic. Molly extended toward him and shrieked: "Daddy!"

The man whipped around to face her, a look of utter relief crossing his face. Bashir pushed himself from the bed and met the man halfway across the room, shifting the ecstatic girl into his arms. The man hugged her tightly, glancing up at the ceiling as if sending a silent prayer of thanks.

"Is she all right?" he demanded.

"Just fine. A couple of broken bones. Nothing to worry about," Bashir assured him.

"Thank you," the man, a lieutenant commander, said. "What about my wife, Keiko?"

"Keiko's fine," another voice said and the man turned, Bashir forgotten. Crusher was standing behind them and the man hurried toward her, asking about his wife's health. Bashir turned as someone else came into the sickbay and hurried toward the Vulcan man, helping him to a bed, and began treating him.

* * *

A security detail had joined them and clearing out the dangerous areas of deck five was going as well as it could be expected. The ship hadn't sustained as much damage as Dax had anticipated, but it was still enough, and they had to force their way into some quarters and rescue people who were trapped behind fallen bulkheads or who had been injured somehow. Most of them were scared and more than a little relieved to see a Starfleet uniform, whether or not the person wearing it was familiar.

Dax could feel the ticking of the clock in her mind, knowing the area was unstable and that the secondary life support was all that stood between them and a complete lack of oxygen. She was just helping a concussed ensign into the corridor when an engineering team consisting of two people in EV suits hurried past. The ensign, already shaken and scared, looked more alarmed.

"It's all right," she assured the woman, then turned to one of the security guards, a Vulcan. "Can you take her to sickbay?"

"Of course," he replied, slipping one of the woman's arms around his shoulders and helping her away. Dax rejoined the others of her team, heading into another set of quarters.

After what seemed like an eternity, they were finished. While they had been working, an unease had been growing in Dax's mind until she became aware that she had no idea what had become of Bashir. She tried to push the nagging seed of fear aside, but found she couldn't, and part of her mind had insisted on focusing on him, on the utter lack of information about his well being. Now that they were finished, the fear seemed to blossom so that it threatened to envelope her, but Dax reined in her emotions tightly, refusing to think of the worst.

Mantaes hit his combadge, calling Rinn, who reassigned the first officer to engineering to assist with getting the warp core back on line. The security guards were sent down to another deck, to ensure there were no casualties, and Dax was summoned back to the bridge. They evacuated the section and Dax found a working turbolift. She stepped inside and hit her own combadge after giving her destination, her hands shaking slightly.

"Dax to Bashir," she said.

There was no answer. Dax tapped her combadge again.

"Dax to Bashir. Julian, do you read me?"

Again, only silence.

"Computer, halt turbolift and locate Julian Bashir."

"Unable to comply. Internal sensors are not functioning at one hundred percent capacity."

"Can you locate him in any of the areas where internal sensors are working?" she demanded.

"Negative."

"Are the internal sensors working in sickbay?"

"Confirmed."

"And he's not there?"

"Negative."

Dax felt her stomach go cold and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Is there anyone in sickbay?" she asked, knowing full well that the Borg drones she encountered hadn't been the only ones to make it on board. She also knew two of them had appeared near sickbay. She didn't know if they'd been neutralized.

"Negative," the computer replied.

"Where did they go?" Dax demanded.

"Unknown."

She grasped the handrails as the universe seemed to narrow into this single moment, this single place.

"Were they beamed out by the _Enterprise_?" she asked, telling herself it was the most likely scenario.

"Unknown. There is no sensor data available for sickbay from twelve hundred seven hours to twelve hundred thirty-one hours."

"Resume turbolift," Dax said, feeling numb. She took another deep breath and told herself that Bashir and the others had most likely been beamed over the _Enterprise_, where the sickbay facilities were better and doubtlessly less damaged. She had work of her own to do now; the ship would need someone to pilot it to the nearest starbase, and she appeared to be their best option for a pilot at the moment. Bashir would have to wait, but knowing that didn't make her feel better. In her mind's eye, she saw the Borg ship exploding and swallowed a fear that he may have been on it, already assimilated, when that happened.

* * *

"All right, you're turn," Crusher said from beside Bashir and he glanced up.

"What?" he asked.

"There isn't anyone left to treat but you," the red-haired doctor said, crossing her arms and giving him a 'don't-argue-with-me' look. Surprised, Bashir glanced down at his injured leg. He'd forgotten all about it. The pain, as if waiting for its chance, returned. He winced slightly, unimpressed now with his makeshift bandage, which had soaked through with blood.

"On the bed," Crusher ordered. She gestured to a nurse to assist her as Bashir climbed onto a bed and lay down. He heard the doctor tsk and looked up to see her shaking her head at the bandage he'd made. "Good enough for on the fly, though," she said to him.

Bashir grinned and shook his head.

"Thanks."

"We're going to have to cut the whole pant leg off. Elisha, get his boot off carefully. He has a sprain in that ankle."

Bashir winced as the nurse slid his boot off as gently as she could, then held his leg up slightly.

"Right. Lie still, Julian," Crusher said and Bashir lowered his head again, listening to the faint sound of his uniform being destroyed, then repressing another wince as the doctor peeled off his bandage.

"Put his leg down," she said to the nurse. "Take care of the ankle. I'm going to disinfect this and clean it up. You're lucky it's a surface wound, Julian. The Borg are pretty serious about inflicting damage."

"Well, I don't feel assimilated yet," Bashir joked.

Crusher shook her head.

"Lie still."

He did as he was told and found his mind turning to Dax suddenly. A cold shiver ran through him; he had no idea where she was, if she was still all right. She hadn't shown up in their sickbay, at least, but he didn't know if she was still on the _Kubai_. He had no way of knowing if any other Borg had made it onto the ship, if they'd gotten to the bridge. The sphere had been destroyed, but had any crew members been taken over before that?

He took a deep breath to calm himself and looked at the pale ceiling. The doors hissed open from somewhere behind him and Bashir raised his head, wondering if they were receiving yet another patient. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching them, then Dax came into view, stopping in her tracks when she saw him.

Bashir froze as well. He'd never seen an expression like that on her face. For a moment, the stark terror stayed, then was replaced by a flash of disbelief, followed by utter relief.

"Jules," she said, and Bashir heard a world of banished fear in her voice. And something else. Something almost like ownership. Something that told him that he was her Julian.

She was still his Jadzia.

"Zia," he said and she rushed toward him, bending over to kiss him hard. Bashir put one hand on the back of her head, returning the kiss with as much enthusiasm.

"Are you all right?" Dax demanded when they pulled apart, both slightly breathless.

"He's just fine," Crusher assured Dax, who seemed to notice the doctor's presence for the first time. She straightened, facing the human woman. "A surficial cut and a sprained ankle, both of which we've taken care of."

Dax nodded.

"Good," she replied.

"I'll get you a new uniform," the doctor promised and Bashir glanced down to see one nearly naked leg. He nodded and the doctor and nurse moved away, giving them some privacy.

"I was so worried," Dax said, kissing him again. "I had no idea you'd been beamed over here. I thought– I thought the Borg got you."

"I got her," Bashir replied and Dax gave him a quizzical look. He sat up carefully, nodding to the stasis chamber where the drone was confined. "She grabbed me just before we beamed over. I think she used to be human. Maybe they can save her."

Dax grinned, shaking her head, and kissed him again.

"What?" Bashir asked.

"Such a doctor," she said. "Always thinking of others first."

"I'm not a doctor yet," he said.

She shrugged and hugged him. Bashir hugged her back, feeling a familiarity sweep back over. She may be Dax now, but she was also Jadzia, and, for the first time since she'd been joined, he actually felt as if he could understand that.

"What is it?" he asked when she pulled away and he noticed the strain around her eyes.

"I was so worried," Dax said, putting a hand on his arm. "I thought– Benjamin lost his wife at Wolf Three-Five-Nine and I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for him. The idea that you might have been taken to the sphere before it was destroyed…" She paused, letting out a deep breath. "That was hard."

Bashir's brow furrowed.

"Who's Benjamin?" he asked, quickly running through a list in his mind of friends of hers he knew. The name wasn't familiar.

"Oh. One of Curzon's friends. Benjamin Sisko. He was the ex-oh of the _Saratoga_. It was destroyed at Wolf Three-Five-Nine. His wife died on board."

Bashir felt his heart twist, both for Sisko and for himself. He couldn't imagine losing Dax like that.

"Well, I'm all right," he assured her, taking her chin in one hand. Dax smiled at him and he reached up with his other hand to brush a strand of dark hair from her forehead. He kissed her again and Dax kissed back. This finally felt familiar again, too. He was glad to have her back, although he understood she'd never be the same person she had been before being joined. He wouldn't be the same person he'd been before her joining, either.

"I think we may just beat the odds," Dax commented. Bashir grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple.

"This human doesn't give up so easily," Bashir said.

"Neither does this Trill," Dax replied. "Especially not anymore."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her and she grinned at him, pulling him into another kiss.


End file.
